More Than Life
by Neon Daisies
Summary: What if you left behind a life of brutality and a family that used you? What if you found a man who reminded you of that family, yet had a decent side as well? What if the family you left behind rose up to reclaim you? --COMPLETE--
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: ok, new fic.  The rules are going to change a bit.  More info at the end about that.  For now, enjoy.  I know you're all eager to read.**

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**Washington****, ****D.C.** – October 26th****

   Sands was still a CIA agent.  While he was semi-amazed by this, and resentful of the knowledge that he was going to have a very attentive eye trained on him for most likely several years in the future, he wasn't completely surprised.  The CIA didn't take a very proactive position when it came to torturing its own agents for information, and Sands was the only one still alive that knew all the cookies that had crumbled in the failed Day of the Dead coup.  Hell, as far as Uncle Sam was concerned, he had done his job.  _El Presidénte was still alive, Marquez was dead, the leader of a powerful cartel and his successor were dead (to the best of anyone's knowledge), and the current Mexican government was apparently stronger than ever after the revealing of corrupt agents and the rally of the people around national identity.  It was enough to make Sands sick._

   _No, I take that back.  These endless meetings are what're getting to my stomach.  The constant inaction wore on him.  Most of the time he could manage to distract himself; annoying whatever bigwig was questioning him, playing out different scenarios in his head, imagining what he was going to do should he ever be sprung from the cold, impersonal walls of HQ . . . ._

   The past month had been nothing but meetings.  Meetings and debriefs and medical pow-wows.  It was almost enough to make him swear off women all together, because they were the ones that had brought him to this.  _This is all Ingrid's fault.  Or more likely, **her** fault.  I'm tempted to track her down and make her pay for this.  It was a thought he'd been considering on and off over the past months._

   **_You've been considering it ever since you found out that she left.  That she left you alone, injured, and vulnerable.  It was one thing that _she_ saw you in that condition; that she left in the care of strangers is nearly unforgivable._**

_   It was good that she left if I was being stupid enough to let myself be that dependent on her._

_   **You're still 'dependent' on her, or you would have forgotten her long ago.  You have a hard time remembering the names of old girlfriends.  You need to resolve the situation surrounding her.**_

_   The only situation I need to resolve is the fact that they've got me sitting around on my ass all day long._

  The doors to the conference room opened.  Sands didn't bother looking up.  Instead, he took one last, defiant drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out in an ashtray.  He purposely did a poor job, allowing the cigarette to smolder, trails of smoke rising in lazy columns.

   William Colton sighed as he took his seat at the table.  Sands, while undeniably brilliant, had never been approachable.  Colton knew his agent could be outgoing when he wanted, but even then he wore a threatening air that kept people at an arm's length.  However, ever since he'd been retrieved from LA, his attitude had been strictly belligerent.  He was clearly dissatisfied, impatient for something.  Which was why this meeting was taking place.  Over the objections of the Agency doctors and some of the other directors, Colton had decided that it was time to send Sands back out into the field.

   "Agent Sands, it's good of you to be here this morning."

   "Cut the crap, Bill.  Why did you call me in?"  Sands finally looked up from his study of the table, squarely meeting his superior's gaze.

   Colton didn't even blink.  In the months that Sands had been back and raising hell amongst the ranks, he'd gotten used to the sight of the man's now hazel-green eyes.  This morning, Sands eyes were their former color of coffee brown.  "The doctors already informed me that you were ready to start wearing contacts."

   Sands grimaced, displeased when he didn't get the reaction he'd been hoping for.  _Doctors . . . busybodies, all of them._  "I take it I'm not here for more chitchat?  Because I think I should warn you that I'm chitted out."

   "No.  Actually I – " the door opened as another man came into the room.  Paul Strauss, Colton's personal assistant, took a seat on the director's right, laying his leather portfolio on the table.  Once the man was settled, Colton continued.  "I have an assignment for you."

   Sands raised his eyebrows, interest making itself apparent on his face.  "It better not be busy work."

   "No."  The older man settled more comfortably into his chair.  "In the past three or four months, reports have been pouring in from our agents and contacts in Mexico."  Sands' face went blank as Colton continued.  "In the aftermath of last year's failed Day of the Dead coup d'etat, the Barillo cartel was believed to be . . . inconsequential.  Fractured.  Moribund.  However, attempts by the other local cartels to take control of the territory were all violently repelled.  Now our agents in Guadalajara and Mexico City are sending news that not only is the Barillo cartel intact, but it seems to be gathering its forces to take over more territory.  They have their eyes set on expansion . . . something that our government wants to see fail."

   Sands knew what was coming, and quite frankly, he was thrilled.  The chance to go back to Mexico and totally annihilate the Barillo cartel once and for all.  The ultimate revenge.  A part of him whispered that it was almost as good as getting revenge on her . . . on _la niña.  "When do I leave?"_

   "That all depends."

   _Oh my god.  Please tell me they don't have a bunch of protocols for me to follow.  "On what?"_

   Colton let his aide take over.  Strauss pulled a photo out of his portfolio and slid it across the table.  "We have reason to believe that you've come into contact with this woman in the past months."

   Sands looked at the man, then picked up the picture.  It was a black and white surveillance photo.  The woman in it was completely unfamiliar.  He might be bad with names, but Sands never forgot a face; he'd never seen the woman in his life.  "Hate to break it to you, but I've never laid eyes on this woman."  He tried to hand it back, but Strauss held up a hand to stop him.

   "I wasn't asking if you've ever seen her.  We know that much.  But you have met her.  That's Teresa Barillo, the woman who got you out of Mexico."

   Sands felt genuine and unpleasant surprise wash over him as he looked at Strauss, then back down at the photo, studying the female who'd done so much to throw off his equilibrium, even though she'd tried not to.

   As Sands tried to burn the image into his retinas, he thought that he should have recognized her even though he'd never seen her.  He'd felt the contours of Tessa's face the night before his surgery.  Even now he remembered the way her skin had felt.  And this picture . . .  There were hints of Barillo in her nose and cheekbones.  Her lips were full, but her mouth was wider that Ajedrez's had been.  "What does she have to do with all this?"

   Colton took over the briefing.  "She's the key.  Your way in.  Word is, the cartel has been conducting a quiet manhunt for her since December of last year – a month after you both arrived in LA.  We don't know why, that's why we need to get in contact with her.  We need to know why they're looking for her and if she can get us in.  The idea is to get her inside, working with an agent to discover just what her family has in store."

   "And that 'agent' would be me, correct?"  

   Colton nodded.  "We also want you to make contact with her.  We have reason to believe that she might listen to someone she knows.  If that doesn't work, we send in the secondary contact, and if that doesn't work . . . we'll try to persuade her to work with us."

   "So you're going to use her."

   Colton shrugged.  "The Barillo cartel cannot be allowed to gain that much power.  We have enough trouble even putting a dent into all the narcotics they traffic into the country.  If they take over the territory they have their eyes on, they'll be nearly unstoppable."

   Sands nodded, looking at the picture again.  "How long do I have to . . . contact her?"

   "We want to proceed with the operation by the new year."  Strauss slid a manila folder across the table.  

   Sands took it in hand and stood, tucking the photo inside his jacket pocket.  With an ironic salute, he left the room.

   Strauss leaned over to Colton.  "What did that mean?"

   "It meant he'll take the assignment."

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**Ok, here's what I meant about the rules changing.  With 'Eyes' I was trying to write a story that did not end up with Sands falling in love with his caregiver.  I managed to do that.  However, with people telling me that Sands and Tess are meant for each other (Merrie especially), I'm going to start moving towards that territory.  It'll be a slow journey, despite some . . . physical interaction . . . and I doubt the word 'love' will ever come up in this fic.  If I can develop a story idea that will center mainly around Sands that takes place after this one, then perhaps we'll finally reach that, although I can't really see either of these two admitting to such a thing.**

**With that, I have a request.  No rated 'R' physical content will be going into this fic.  All smut will be toned down to a nice 'PG-13' level, simply because there are people who don't like to read smut.  Rated 'R' versions will be available if you e-mail me and ask for it though.  I also need someone willing to beta these scenes for me, since I'm bad at catching things like that myself.  First person to volunteer gets the job, so act fast, mi amigas.  ^_^**

**That's it, until I post again.  Please review.**


	2. Back in Your Arms

**Author's Note: here it is, earlier than I anticipated.**

**Romance warning for this chapter, but I'm dedicated to keeping the chapters I post PG-13 or below for that kind of stuff.  You want 'R' versions of the romance scenes, you'll have to e-mail me, and I'll send those to you.  However, when I say 'romance,' what I really mean is 'adult content and no real love actually happening anywhere.'  Should love appear now, everyone would be OOC, and that's something I refuse to do.**

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Tess swung her leg up to rest on the porch railing.  The railing was the perfect height - her leg was at a 90º angle to her body.  She'd just finished her evening jog and now she was ready to stretch.

   With a deep sigh, Tess bent over and tucked her intertwined fingers around her foot; her forehead rested on her knee.  As she counted to one hundred and twenty, she absently removed her ankle weight.  It dropped to the porch with a thud.  _One-seventeen, one-eighteen, one-nineteen, one-twenty._  Standing up, Tess switched legs as the door opened.  She looked over her shoulder - Alma come out to join her.  "Buenos noches, chica."

   "Tía?  I need help with my math."  They'd only been in the states for less than a year, but Alma was nearing the point where Tess would say the girl was fluent in English.  Marcos _was_ fluent - he'd leaned the language eagerly.  Alma had depended on stubbornness to learn it, René knew the English words for most things but delighted in refusing to speak any, and Selena could often be found babbling in a mixture of both languages.

   "What kind of help?"

   "Times tables."

   As Tess finished her stretching, she helped Alma run through her multiplication tables up to eight.  The last round gave her trouble, but she eventually got through it.  By the time Alma was comfortable with the 'eights', both woman and girl had moved to sit on the porch swing.  For awhile they sat in silence, watching the moon rise over the houses across the street.  Tess tried to spend a few moments alone with each child every day, and tried to be accessible, but she feared she wasn't very good at it.  Often she felt bewildered or overwhelmed.  If Cora hadn't come along, she didn't know what she would have done.

   "Tía?"

   "Sí, Alma?"

   "I don't want to go with Cora tomorrow."

   Ah.  Tomorrow.  Día los Muertos.  "Why not?"  The girl shrugged.  "Cora was going to have you all help her set up her altar, and then you were going to make candles and sugar rolls, and she ever dried some marigolds for you to arrange.  Doesn't that sound like fun?"

   "Yes . . . but . . . Máma and Pápa died last year on Día los Muertos."

   "And you're not sure you should be having fun?"  The girl shrugged, but Tess thought she was right.  "It's alright for you to keep living your life, chica."  Still no response.  "It's important that you remember them."

   "Then why can't we celebrate here?  Why are you sending us away?  Why aren't you coming with us?"

   _Because I find no joy in remembering my family.  I find no joy in remembering that day._  "I have to work, chica."

   "But after that."

   "After that I'll have papers to grade."  Tess sighed.  "You'll have a better time without me.  But, I'll have my phone with me all day and you can call me at any time to talk, or to have me come get you, or whatever."  Tess really wanted to spend the day alone, contemplating everything that had happened in the past year, but the kids were important.  She had a duty to them, and she found she also wanted to . . . to be able to nurture them?  She didn't exactly know how to do that, but the past year hadn't been too painful where the kids were concerned.

   "Okay, Tía."

   A few more moments passed in silence before Tess realized how late it was getting.  "Are you done with your homework?"

   "No.  I have to read a chapter of my book."

   "Well, that needs to be done before bed, so in you go."  Tess watched as the girl went back inside, noticing that she'd donned a coat before coming out.  The kids were still used to Mexico's much warmer climate, and they didn't really like the cold.  _But they like snow, so it balances out, I guess._  

   Balance . . . _"The best way to predict the future is to invent it . . . Wise words.  I did that.  And it was all fun and games until someone got their eyes poked out."_  Tess shivered and stood up.  Even after a year, that voice rang clear in her memory.  When would it leave?

   Stretching one last time, Tess looked over her neighborhood.  It was a quiet place filled with doctors and bankers and lawyers and their families.  All was peaceful and pristine . . . except for the car parked across the street.  People around here had nice cars that they kept in garages.  This car was nice enough . . . just out of place.

   _Maybe the O'Connors have a child visiting or something._  Her neighbors across the street were empty nesters, although they seemed to miss having children around.

   **_Then why isn't the car in their garage?  They _have_ the room._**

_   Maybe whoever owns the car is only here for a short visit._

**_   Then they would have parked in the driveway.  Besides, that car has been parked there off and on for the past three days._**

_   You lie._

_   **No, I keep my eyes peeled so **_**you _don't end up dead._**

   Tess had had enough.  _You're being paranoid.  There's no need for that.  Jessica and Logan are the only ones who know I'm here, and they both know I'd like to keep that private.  The cartel doesn't shadow for days on end - they find out just enough information to come in and kill you.  Besides, there's no one left in __Mexico__ who wants me around._

**_   That's why you fled, right?  And who said anything about your family?  What about Sands?  You know he's dangerous.  What if he's tracked you down and is planning on killing you on the anniversary of the day your family essentially killed him?_**__

_   No.  No one is out to get me.  No one is spying on me.  I'm not that interesting.  And now I want to go inside.  It's getting crowded out here._  Tess went to her front door and opened it, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at the car despite all her words.  There was no reason to be paranoid, but there wasn't a reason to be careless either.  _It's nothing._  Her mind made up, Tess stepped inside her home and locked the door behind her.

Sands lowered his camera as he restlessly chewed on some gum.  He'd much rather smoke, but smoke stung his eyes in close quarters and he couldn't roll down a window because that would attract attention to himself - attention he couldn't afford at the moment.

   Speaking of his eyes, they were burning anyway.  As much as Sands appreciated being able to wear contacts, they were a pain in the ass at the moment.  With an irritated sigh he removed them, placing them in their little container.  The world immediately went grainy and completely out of focus.  It wasn't as bad as things had been during his recovery, but it was a dangerous position to be caught in.  He quickly put on his glasses, relaxing as things became clear again.  Once the house settled for the night, he'd go back to the hotel and develop his roll of film.

   He didn't have long to wait - a fact for which he was grateful.  In a little over an hour the last light blinked out.  _Finally._  Sands started his car and drove off, reviewing his plans for the next day.

   It was only a ten minute drive to his hotel.  Unlocking the door to his room, Sands walked in and threw his coat on the bed, heading directly to the bathroom. 

   One of the reasons he'd chosen to stay here had been the bathroom.  It had two sinks - one to use for normal things, one to for developing his pictures.  In the six days that he'd been in town, Sands had already developed several rolls of film.  Most of the pictures were of his quarry, but pictures of others had sneaked in.  There were several of the kids and the housekeeper - one Cora Mendez, daughter of Gregory and Christina (Tina) Mendez.  Tina Mendez was Logan's personal assistant, and possibly the only person he'd met in LA that hadn't pissed him off.  She wasn't bad looking, but she didn't hold Sands' interest either.  He'd bugged the house three days ago when everyone had been out, and he had to admit that the woman's phone conversations were not all that interesting.  Not as interesting as the fact that Tess could often be found muttering to herself when she was alone.

   He had felt a bit of guilt about wiring the house, but to allay that, he hadn't planted any cameras.  Instead he settled on following the routines of the house's inhabitants.  Tomorrow morning he planned on sneaking into one of Tessa's morning classes before setting things into motion.  Information was good, and he wanted to make sure he had enough before confronting her.  Information like when the best time to get Tess alone was, what kind of car she drove, where she worked, where the kids were during the day - anything that would help.

   It'd paid off.  Yesterday he'd overheard that both the housekeeper and the kids were going to be out of the house for the Day of the Dead, but that Tess was going to be at the house.  Alone.  It was perfect, really.  Almost ironic.

   Tomorrow he'd put his plan into action.  And on November 3rd, then he'd get down to CIA business.

"Professor?"

   Tess jumped back to herself, somewhat ashamed to be caught with her mind wandering.  "Sorry.  Yes, you had a question?"  Semi-reluctantly, she moved her eyes from the man in the back row who had warning bells going off in her head, and looked at the girl who'd apparently had her hand raised for some time.

   "Yes." Standing, the girl help up a copy of some medical journal.  "I was reading this last month, and when you started the unit on transplants, I remembered reading about this.  It was written by a doctor in California who was recently granted permission to -"

   Tess held up a hand to stop the girl.  _Med students,_ she thought in exasperation.  _Of all the things to bring up today._

_   **Yes.  One might think that **_**someone_ doesn't want you to forget what you were doing at this time last year._**

_   It's only __9 am__.  At this time last year, I was having breakfast._

**_   And waiting for the slaughter to begin._**  "I've heard about that . . . experiment, Leslie."  **_I should hope so.  After all, you supplied the guinea pig._**  "I believe I've even read that same article.  You don't need to go into further detail.  What is it that you wanted to ask?"

   "I was wondering how you felt about how quickly Dr. Pierce got permission to start human trials.  Looking at the body of data he collected beforehand, it doesn't seem as if he should have been allowed to proceed with human trials for another few years."

   "It's true that Dr. Pierce had only, what was it?  Seven trials before getting government approval?"  The girl nodded.  "Alright.  However, in each of those trials, the data gathered was almost identical.  Just like in any other transplant procedure, as long as the donor eyes are compatible, the host body won't reject them.  What actually took the longest was developing the drugs that regenerated the nerves and tendons.  And ever with the tens of thousands of dollars that went into that research, I believe the article states that there were unforeseen interactions between the different medications."  Tess sighed and took a seat on the table in the front of the room, crossing her legs at the ankle.  "Now's not the time I would have chosen to get into this, but. . . ."

   Sands watched from the back of the room as Tess described the events of last winter with as few details and as little emotion as she could.  Every word out of her mouth was both clinical and diplomatic.  He resisted the urge to scratch as the glue holding on his fake beard and eyebrows started to irritate his skin.  The tweed jacket he'd picked up at some secondhand store itched as well, but he could put up with that.  After all the months of recovery and boredom, it was good to be back in the game . . . even if he may have gone overboard on the glue.

   Tess was clearly in her element here.  She ran through the facts of his case without ever hinting that she'd been there to experience any of it firsthand.  After a few minutes, Sands tuned out what she was saying, examining _her_ instead.  This was the closest he'd gotten to her since she'd left - the first time that he was staring at her without the aid of a camera lens.

   He had to admit that she wasn't the worst looking female he'd ever seen, but she wasn't her sister either.  At the moment her hair was tucked into some kind of knot behind her head, not a single strand escaping or misbehaving.  Not that he'd expected otherwise.  Tess was a woman who liked things to stay tidy - her appearance should always reflect that, at least in public.  The privacy of her own home might be another matter altogether.

   Her clothing was simple and chosen to keep attention from being drawn to herself.  She was wearing charcoal grey dress with a turtleneck, and had a black jacket on over that.  The only adornments she was wearing was a pair of glasses with oval frames and a silver wristwatch.  No rings, no earrings, no necklace.

   For the most part, this morning class was silent, occasionally asking a question, but not showing any of the energy that normally characterized college students.  _Monday mornings get to everyone, I suppose._  Sands met Tessa's eyes as she glanced up at him again.  Undoubtedly, she was trying to figure out what he was doing there.  He was confident that she had no clue as to who he was - not with the blond beard and wig - and his appearance would be too out of context for her to figure out why he made her uneasy.

   Finally, a buzzer on the table went off.  Students packed up their materials as Tess reminded them of reading assignments.  Sands waited as students filed out of the lecture hall, sitting until he and Tess were the only ones in the room.  She was openly staring at him now, standing in a position that clearly communicated her uncertainty.  When she opened her mouth to question him, Sands stood an went out a nearby door, leaving her in the room with her mouth open.

As Tess packed away her papers and files for the day, her mind drifted back to the strange man who'd been in her nine o'clock class.  She was still trying to decide whether he'd really been there or if she needed to see her doctor about adjusting her medication dosage.  She'd gone so far as to walk to the chair he was sitting in and feel the seat to see if it was warm or not.  It had been, and Tess grasped this evidence that she wasn't hallucinating, but . . . something about him hadn't been right.

**_   Did you catch the way he was _looking_ at you the entire class?_**

_   This is a college, and I'm a professor.  Most of the people in me classes 'look' at me the entire time they're in here._

**_   Yes, but most of them don't send shivers down your spine._**

_   Neither did he._

**_   But he almost did.  I could feel the impending shivers.  I'm telling you that he was no good._**

_   Well, if he shows up again tomorrow, I'll call security, alright?_

**_   I don't think he's dangerous . . . he just reminded you of someone you're trying hard - but unsuccessfully - to forget._**

_   That man looked nothing like Sands.  Besides, the last I heard -  she_ stopped herself.  She didn't want to admit that she'd been keeping her ears open for news of the man.

**_   What did you hear?_**

_   It's not important._

**_  It is if you remembered.  Relax, it's not like I'm asking you to talk to me out loud.  Just a little admission._**

_   I don't owe you anything.  Besides, I should be focusing on other things today._

**_   Like keeping your mind off Sands?  Understandable.  The man did get under your skin.  He was important to you.  And then you left him_**

_  Yes.  I left him.  I left him knowing that he'd hate me if I stayed and he'd despise me if I left, but I chose what was easier for me.  It'd be easier for me to leave and never have to **see** that hate in his eyes.  I've seen that expression in too many faces to subject myself to it again.  Thank you for bringing this up, and for pointing out what a horrible person I am, and for sticking your nose in where it's not wanted.  Now, if you would kindly go to sleep until I need you?_

   Picking up her briefcase, Tess left the classroom she'd been debating herself in, and went to her car, determined to get home and relax.  The sooner she moved on to other things, the sooner her voice and her mind would let her forget what'd happened a year ago.

Sands looked around Tessa's house as he waited for her to arrive home.  Other people might not be able to glean insight into people from their surrounding, but Sands could.  The first thing he noticed was the prominence of several decorating themes throughout the house.  Now, this was something that an interior designer knew to do, but he suspected it was simply an extension of Tessa's personality.  Another thing he noticed was the lack of clutter, and what clutter was around was specialized clutter.  There was a wicker basket for shoes by the front door.  The magazines in the living room were arranged in a magazine rack according to title and issue.  The spice rack in the kitchen had all the spices arranged alphabetically.  The books in the bookcases followed the Dewy Decimal system.  And this was mild compared to what things were like in her room.

   Sands had spent an hour in there.  Clothes were hung up - all of them.  Even her jeans hung from hangers.  And not only were they hung up, but they were arranged according to fabric, color, and season they were meant to be worn in.  Shoes were lined up in pairs.  Her sock drawer was arranged by color.  In the linen closet in her bathroom, there were seven sets of towels - each set containing a bath sheet and a smaller towel, both matching in color.  Her CDs were arranged alphabetically by artist and divided into different genres.  There wasn't a single item in that room that looked as if it'd been set down without lots of consideration.  Sands wondered if Tess was obsessive/compulsive.  _That might explain why she was always quoting things._

   He checked his watch.  It was getting close to the time when she should be home.  He'd better get downstairs.

Tess parked her car in the driveway.  It was warm for November, something for which she was grateful.  She enjoyed cold weather, but she hadn't realized how much she'd also miss the milder winter of Mexico.  _Although, that's about all I miss.  I certainly don't miss the summers._  Tess walked to the end of the driveway and retrieved her mail.  There was a couple bills, two or three children's magazines, her copy of Newsweek, and a large, unaddressed manila envelope.  _What's this?_

**_   A present from the Unibomber.  I wouldn't open that if I were you._**

Tess slowly walked back to the house, looking over the package.  _That's ridiculous.  It's not something from the Unibomber.  They caught him a few years ago, remember?_

**_   Fine.  But don't come crying to me when you don't like what's in that package._**

   Opening her front door with her keys, Tess asked, _Why wouldn't I like what's in here?_

**_   Remember the last manila envelope you opened?_**  Tess knew exactly what the voice was talking about.  The night that Logan had come over.  His admission that he'd had someone digging into her past.  **_You should have done something about that.  It's not safe to let people find out whatever they want about you._**

****She closed the door and locked it behind her.  _He's a friend._  She'd known that she wasn't going to like whatever had been in the envelope, but she'd opened it, and rummaged through the papers anyway.  Only one document had been important enough to look at immediately; her birth certificate.  And in the end, she probably would have been better off without ever finding it.

   **_Barillo.  He branded you.  From beyond the grave, he reached out to make a misery of your life one last time.  In one second, you discovered that you were never going to be able to leave your father behind, because he is a part of you and he recognized that.  You're still fighting it though.  I don't know why.  You can't win in the end._**

Tess set her briefcase down by the front door, hanging her keys from the key rack.  _If any part of my is my father, then it's you.  **You're** the one always pushing me to do things I'd never consider on my own.  You're the one laying guilt and suspicion.  You're the one always telling me that I can never truly escape my family, even though they're dead._  Tess realized just how long she'd been debating her voice.  _Oh my goodness,_ she thought. _Look.  A quiet evening at home is all I'm asking for.  _As she stripped off her jacket and hung it from the coat rack, she asked, _Can I at least have that?_

   **_I don't know.  I suppose that depends on you._**  After that, the voice was silent.  

   Tess kicked off her shoes, glad to be rid of the things, but suspicious that her voice wasn't going to give up that easily.  If her thoughts kept returning to the Day of the Dead, no matter how she tried to redirect them, she doubted that she'd get much peace tonight.  _It's rather warm today.  It was warm that day too, _she thought as she walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

   **_Yeah, hot just like you're hot for Sands.  Will you just admit it already?_**

****Where had _that_ come from?  _What the hell__ are you talking about?_

_   **We both know it's true.  No **_**other_ man has managed to weasel his way into your thoughts for the past year.  You seclude yourself from other adult  company.  You _dream_ about him -_**

_   Because of you._

   The voice ignored her.  **_Admit it.  You never wanted to leave.  You _wanted_ to stay.  You wanted to be by his side during his recovery.  You wanted his company, even though you knew he would have done nothing but ignore you, verbally abuse you, and perhaps use you.  I really do think you're a masochist.  Who willingly puts up with that sort of thing?_**

   _One would think **you've** dulled me to that sort of abuse by now.  But for the sake of argument, let's say you're right.  Let's say that I **wanted** to stay with Sands.  What would have happened eventually?  One of us would have left, and then it **really** would have hurt.  **And** I would be alone._

****The voice was cloying, mocking.  **_Ah, but you are alone.  Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?  _**Then in a more matter-of-fact voice, it continued, **_You_****_ really should have laid him when you had the chance._**

****_You're not helping._

_   **You're boring**_

   "Shut up.  You're not being helpful _or_ successful, so give it up."  Tess looked down to discover that not only had she gotten a bottle of water from the fridge, but she'd make herself a snack as well.  _I really have to start paying attention to what I'm doing.  _"Why am I even talking to you?  You're not _real_."

   **_I'm as real as you make me._**

   _How comforting._  Sitting at the bar, Tess opened her bottle of water and took a sip.  Sighing and taking a bite of the apple she'd cut up, she opened the envelope that'd been in her mailbox.  When she saw the note on top of the stack of papers she pulled free, Tess froze.  _"I'm watching."_  Those were the only words on the letter, but they were enough to give her a _very _bad feeling.  

**_   What else is there?_**  The voice sounded distinctly cheerful.

   Tess fought to keep her hands from trembling as she looked at the stack of photographs she found under the letter.  They were pictures of her, of her kids, her house, her car.  With each new photo, Tess felt dread and panic fighting for dominance of her mind.

   **_Some cultures believe that if someone takes your picture, they've stolen your soul.  What do you think, Teresa?  If your soul isn't gone, has something else been taken in its place?  Or has something replaced it?  Wouldn't it be interesting if  I_ _was what had replaced your soul?_**

   "No," she whispered.  Getting up, she set the pictures on the counter.  _I should call the police or something. . . ._

**_   You're being watched, Teresa.  There's someone in the house.  Turn around before death sneaks up on you._**  Tess spun around and screamed as her voice was proven right.

Sands had to contain his surprise as Tess finally turned in his direction.  The scream had been a surprise - he didn't think it was possible to overset Tess that much.  The woman had always seemed somewhat controlled - in a very scatterbrained sort of way.  Then, when she turned to run, he jumped after her, grabbing her arm to stop her from running off.  True, he wanted her unsettled, but not terrified.  "Calm down, conejo."

   _Rabbit?  _Tess froze as the familiar nickname reached her ears.  Shaking her head, trying to clear a space to think amongst the demands for flight and the gleeful delight of her other side, she looked down, still poised to free herself should she need to.  Slowly she looked at the hand locked around her elbow, then traveled up the arm to the shoulder.  Swallowing, she looked at the man's face, not going so far as to look in his eyes.  She was nowhere near ready for that.

   **_Come off it.  You know it's Sands._**

_   I don't like sand.  I never even go to the beach,_ she thought bewilderingly.  _What makes you think this is a good thing?_  Out loud, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

   Sands smirked at the uncertainty in Tessa's voice.  He wanted to have the upper hand - it was clear that he had it.  Tess was frozen as still as a statue, although she was standing as far from him as possible.

   "What?  No quote for the occasion?"  Slowly, Sands stepped closer to Tess - she retreated.

   "I can't seem to think of one that would be appropriate.  No."

   "Isn't it possible I just dropped by to say 'hello'?  To take you our for dinner for saving my life?"

   Tess laughed disbelievingly.  "The cross on his breast, and the devil in his heart."

   Sands kept walking, forcing Tess to keep retreating before him.  "Is that any way to treat an old friend?" he asked.

   "I wasn't aware that we were friends.  I was under the distinct impression that you hated me."  Tessa's gaze had sunk to the floor, watching his feet as he kept walking towards her.

   "Well, yes, I suppose there is that," he murmured.  Finally he'd managed to back her into a wall.  The moment she realized she'd been corralled, Tess tried to bolt, darting to the side while trying to pull out of his grasp.  Sands had been prepared for that.  He grabbed her other elbow before she could even make a proper escape attempt.  Now that he had her fully under control, he made a soft 'tsk-tsk' sound.  "Just try to relax, chiquita."

   _Yeah, right._  Tess could feel the impulse to fight throbbing demandingly at the back of her head, but she contained it.  If there was one thing she'd learned under her father, it was that fighting never helped.  The only reason to fight would be if one was reasonably sure they would win, or if death was a preferable option.  Things hadn't reached that point yet.

**_   Told you.  I knew you wanted him._**

   _If this is desire, then I'd be perfectly happy to become a nun._

_   **This isn't desire . . . yet.  But you're not running, are you?**_

_   I have nowhere to run **to**.  He's in my home._  Tess flinched as Sands reached for her face.

   "Shh.  I'm not going to hurt you."  He reached for her again, and again she tried to pull away.  "What's got you so upset, niña?"

   _What has me upset?_  "Let's see.  You've invaded the only home I've ever been able to create for myself.  You've been spying on me.  You scared me out of my wits.  Oh, yes.  And the last time I found myself in this position, you held a gun to my head, nearly strangled me, and did your best to give me a concussion."

   "Hmm . . . I seem to remember there being a bit more to things than that."

   Tess knew what he was talking about, but refused to comment on it.  "You never answered my question."

   "And which question was that?"

   "Why are you here?"

   "Well, that's where things get interesting," he drawled.  "You see, I seem to remember you offering me a pity fuck.  I also seem to remember turning you down at the time."  He finally managed to grab her chin.  He pulled her head up to face him, but she diverted her eyes.  _Fine.  _"I've decided that was foolish and have come to collect, now that I'm fully capable of . . . appreciating . . . what you offered."

   "Too late.  I don't pity you any more."  She'd never pitied him.  Tess fought the shivers running up and down her spine.  "Are you going to let me go, or were you planning on raping me?"

   "While that might have its advantages, I really don't think things will come to that, chiquita."

   "The hell it won't."  Sands didn't reply, which made Tess nervous.  "I'm serious Sands.  I was never offering you a 'pity fuck'.  I was offering you revenge.  My half-sister screwed you over.  I thought might have appreciated the opportunity to do the same . . . that my body might have served as a substitute for hers."  Still he said nothing.  All he did was stare at her, which unnerved her because she wasn't used to him being able to see, much less be able to see _her_.  With each passing second of silence, Tess felt her desperation increase.  "Okay, it might have been a crazy idea, but I have a good excuse for that."  She was babbling and she knew it.  "Damnit, Sands!  Say something."

   She felt the heat of his body as he used pure physical proximity to intimidate her.  "Well, you see, niña, that's all fine and good, but I've already gotten revenge on Ajedrez.  I'm here for a different type of revenge."  He grinned as she swallowed at his words.  "Do you know what its like to have someone watching your every move?  Seeing you at your most vulnerable moments?  What it's like to be forced to depend on someone?"  Tess felt his breath brush over her cheek, burning the nerve-endings; she smelled the cigarette smoke on his clothing.  She hated him as she felt some of her desperation turn into something else.  "Have you ever experienced the self-consciousness that come with bumbling around in the dark, knowing that people are judging you?"

   _Yes._  "What does that have to do with me?"

   "You were that person, niña.  Maybe you didn't mean to be, but you were.  You made me dependent on you.  You witnessed my private nightmares."  His vice-like grip on her arm loosened.  Tess pulled her arm free, resenting the grip on her chin that kept her in place.  "I really should hate you for it, for being so _nice._  So _understanding._  But I don't, which for some reason makes it difficult for me to simply kill you."  _You're too pure for that.  I'll settle for making you hate me, and then I can forget about you._  _Because at the moment, I can't get you out of my head._  Couldn't stop wondering what she would look like without clothing, what sounds she'd make as pleasure swamped her nervous system, if she would despise him in the morning, or if it'd take longer than that.

   Tess knew enough to realize that anything that happened tonight would not be about him, or about her, but about revenge - just as he'd said.  Domination.  She'd had control over him, and no matter what good had come from that, it was a thought that couldn't be borne by the man in front of her.

**_   You stayed too long.  Took too much.  He's come to collect his due, which I might add, isn't all that unappealing._**

_   Yes.  It is.  It's just another form of manipulation, of control.  I won't let him have that over me.  Whether he realizes it or not, he already owns part of me, but I refuse to let him take that part._

**_   You could give it to him._**

   "Screw you."  Having said that, Tess grabbed Sands' wrist in her hand and wrenched herself free of his grip, taking off running the moment she was loose.  For the first time, she wondered if tiling had been the way to go in the hallway instead of carpet; she'd taken off her shoes, but she was still wearing her stockings.  Slipping over the floor, she looked over her shoulder as she ran for the nearest room with a lock.  _Crap._  Sands was coming after her.  _Ok.  Maybe pissing the man off wasn't the best course of action._

**_   Corner!  Remember the corner._**  Tess tried to turn to avoid colliding with the wall, and she might have succeeded if her foot hadn't slipped out from underneath her due to an unreliable throw rug.  She slammed into the wall, the side of her head making a sick 'thunk' as it hit.  Tess literally saw stars as tears came to her eyes.

   Slowly she slid to the floor, a hand searching out the spot on her head which was sure to swell.  "Ouch."  Tess heard Sands' footsteps as he approached her, saw his feet come into view.  

   Tess sat on the floor and waited for Sands to say something, but all that reached her ears was silence.  Even so, she got the distinct impression that he was laughing at her.  When he crouched down in front of her, she looked away, knowing she needed to hold a certain image of him in her head.  If she were confronted with a new face to memorize, she'd be lost.

   Sands watched as Tess slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, still avoiding his eyes.  The way she swayed made him wonder if she'd actually done damage to herself.  _Better check._  Sands reached out with his right hand to see how much of a lump she had, but Tess jerked away, pressing herself against the wall.  "Ok, I know that I've hit you once, but I was also on medications and had just received some disturbing news.  Unless you're planning to tell me that the cartel is now under your leadership, I think I can guarantee that I won't hurt you."  Her breath left in a huff, but she submitted to his examination, flinching in pain as he probed the lump on her head.  

   "There's no need for torture, Sands."  _There's no need for any of this._  "Look, just take what you want and get out of here.  I won't fight."

   _Why do I get the feeling that the intelligence on her wasn't complete?_ Sands wondered.  _Most normal women don't volunteer to submit while a man rapes them.  Which is not how this is going to end._  No matter how much he wanted to pay Tess back for . . . for everything, he didn't have the stomach for that.  Besides, the entire point was to get her to trust him, and for him to then betray that trust.  _The plan may have to be put on hold for a bit._  "Well, as interesting and gracious as that is, I'm afraid that it just won't do."

   Ah.  Finally a reaction.  Tess looked up, started and confused by this statement.  The moment her eyes met his, he felt his own bolt of surprise jolt through him.  When she'd said her eyes were blue, she hadn't been kidding, and black and white photos didn't do them justice.  He'd seen Barillo's eyes - they'd been blue, but more of a grey-blue.  Tessa's eyes were a deep blue, the contrast startling against her dusky skin.  And at the moment, they were full of confusion and a hint of turmoil.

   Tess knew the moment her eyes met his, that she'd made a gigantic mistake.  It was shocking enough to see eyes where once there'd been nothing but gaping wounds.  That those eyes were a dark shade of chocolate brown, the same color she'd always wished _her_ eyes were . . . it was too much.  She felt the desperation and panic inside her melt and reform into something else - something with her voice at the center.

   **_You know, he really is quite attractive._**

_   Yes._

   Tess was staring at him in much the same way a mongoose might stare at a cobra - if the mongoose were demented enough to consider allying with a poisonous snake.  Maybe he wouldn't have to postpone his plan after all.  "I have a deal for you, niña."

   _Deals with demons . . ._

**_   The most interesting kind.  Listen to the man._**

****_I don't think that's a good idea._

**_   You don't think _anything's_ a good idea.  I want to have some fun._**

_I'm the one who'll have to deal with the consequences._

**_   Yeah, but I'm the one who'll have to listen to you whine.  Shut up and listen._**

   "What kind of deal?"

   Ah.  His niña was scowling at him.  And perhaps if he had thought that she meant it, he would have been upset.  "It's simple really.  You give me _one kiss_ and if you still want me to leave after that, I will."  Crap, he couldn't wait to get her into bed.  Couldn't wait to fuck her senseless.

   _Ok . . . how much can one kiss change things?_ Tess wondered.  

   **_It won't.  It won't change a thing.  Just do it and get the man out of your hair, if that's what you really want._**  Her eyes darted down to glance at his lips, then returned to meet his gaze.  She examined his eyes for any hint that he was trying to trick her, but she couldn't _read_ him.  His face gave nothing away, his eyes just watched her with amusement as if he really couldn't care less what happened next.

   **_Touch him._**  Tess reached out hesitantly, withdrawing her hand before actually touching his skin.  She remembered what it felt like.  **_You remember, but is it still the same?_**  Swallowing hard, she brushed the tips of her fingers against his temple - yes, his skin was still soft and warm.  Her hand seemed to take on a life of its own as she watched, transfixed as her fingertip traced the ridge of bone surrounded his eye socket.  Any bruising left from the surgery had long since faded, but she could imagine what it would have looked like.  Her eyes drifted to his lips again.

   "Just a kiss?"  _Was that my voice? _she wondered as she stroked the sensitive skin just below his bottom lip.  

   Sands wondered who she was trying to fool.  Yes, she sounded uncertain and more than a bit helpless, but he could see her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, could see her increased heart-rate shaking her body.  Could feel the heat radiating from her lithe body.  Could hear the very reluctant desire in her voice.

   "Stop playing, niña.  If you keep teasing any longer, the deal will be off."  She knew that was true, could hear a note of strained control in his voice.  One could only push a man so far before his control snapped, and she had no desire to see that happen.  There was just one problem - she'd never been the first one to make a move before.  Yeah, she'd been kissed once or twice (which was really pretty sad for a woman of thirty-one), but the guy had always been the one to start things.  Sands was going to know she had next to no experience, and he was going to laugh at her.

   "I'm waiting, Tessa."  Gathering her resolve, she pulled his head down an inch or so and raised her face to meet his.  It was a gentle kiss, hesitant and sexy.  The moment she felt his lips meet hers softly, something in her snapped, sending her mental platform listing to one side.  Her internal balance thrown off, she felt the rational side of her mind collide with the bit that was always pushing her, always whispering, always making suggestions.  It leaped at the chance to grab hold of her, not necessarily taking control, but definitely reveling in the opportunity to spread its influence and transmit its own desires.

   Before she knew what she was doing, Tess had tilted her head, parting her lips to tease his.  At some point, her decision to ask him to go changed.  Now all she wanted was for him to stay, to chase off some of the loneliness and continual guilty isolation.  As she placed soft, suckling kisses on his mouth, she wondered, _Why__ isn't he doing anything?_  Mildly annoyed, she slid one hand into his hair - it was tied back.  _Always making things difficult._  Leaning closer so their bodies were separated by only a thin strip of air, she worked with deft fingers to remove the hair tie.  She knew she'd succeeded when she felt his hair fall down around her hand.  Never before had she found long hair on a man sexy, but on him it worked.

   _Sexy?  What?_  For a moment time froze.  Tess was aware of the conflicts inside her own mind; of the part demanding the feel of Sands' body on top of hers, of the part screaming warnings that was rapidly diminishing, and of the part watching the chaos in pleasure.  She started to shake.  _What am I doing?_

   **_Pleasure . . ._** her voice whispered, tormented.  **_This feels good, not like the last time.  I want this.  Pleasure and warmth.  I've never felt that, and you deny me the opportunity.  Well, I'm a part of you, and if I want this, then you want it too.  Without you, I can't feel this.  Just give in.  Sands isn't the type of man to stick around for more than a night,_** it persuaded.**_  Just this once and he'll leave and I promise to never bring him up again.  Just one night.  _**

   Tess felt herself agree, give in.  To her surprise, her other side still didn't take control.  Rather, it held her close, clinging to her, desperate to feel . . . to feel human.  She heard a whimper escape her as for a single moment, the sensation of feeling things twice over became nearly unbearable.  But the pleasing anguish faded, leaving her just Tess, just kneeling in a hallway, just kissing a man like she'd never done so before.

   Sands was trying very hard not to slam Tess back against the wall and end this rather delightful torture.  No.  He had planned her downfall, had planned what he would do to make her beg and plead for him to finally dominate her, thereby filling the need he'd created.  _Yes, stick to the plan.  You in control, not her.  Never her, not again._  He pulled away from her gentle yet incredibly arousing ministrations.  "That's enough bambina.  I think I can take it from here."

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**Quotes:** none for this chapter, amazingly enough.  They're coming in the next though, I promise.  You're free to send me any that you have lying around, because you never know where I can use it.

**Author Thanks:**

**For chapter 26 of 'More Than Eyes Alone Can See'** - Merrie, thai, Digital Diamond, kontara, Aurelius, C.J. Davis, gee, Satisdee (who had to bump me up to 200), The Flaming Chia Pet, Pixy, Lorelei Lee, Nefarious Coda, sue, and fiondra.

**For chapter 1 of 'More Than Life' - Merrie** (who 'cheated' to get the opportunity to beta.  Girl, you know you would have seen it all anyway.  ^_^); **Isola** (oh, I loved that prologue too.  It was so much fun to write.); **Digital** **Diamond** (you're doing an excellent job on keeping my characterizations of Crazy!Tess on the straight and narrow since this is all coming out of my twisted little head.); **Kontara** (yes, assignments are fun, especially when it means that I can do whatever I want.  Wait, I could already do that.  Well, SJ will get to kill people, so that'll be fun.); **Aurelius** (that's alright as long as I know you're reading.  Please let me know if you want any of the 'extras' though.); **Nimwen** (thanks.  I hope you can adjust to Sands having eyes again.  As for flair and brilliance, one of my betas assures you that you're going to love the next chapter.); **Satisdee** (yeah, I wasn't really seeing that either.  But since he had an excuse to track her down . . . *grins*  And yes, your suggestion of a name change was taken to heart and debated, and put into effect.  So, the title is for you, chica.); **The** **Flaming** **Chia** **Pet** (rated 'R' versions, eh?  ^_^  Not a problem.  Expect those a day or so after I post. Gotta give you time to review.  ^_^); **Pixy** (just you wait until the next chapter.  Let's say there will be ample time for Tess to 'freak right out.'  Hope your impatience is settled a bit.); and **Blank** (SJ is definitely ready for action.  Sooner or later I'll even let him start killing people again.  ^_^  Characterizations?  Well, I certainly hope all works out, but then again, I've got three betas and all my reviews to help me with that.); 

**And my new reviewers: Teresa** (wow!  Your name matches my OC's!  That's so cool.  I'm glad that you're liking this story so much.); **grace** (I try to be as realistic as possible and still do whatever I want with my storyline.  SJ and Tess together?  That would be the goal.  Happy?  Well, irritating the heck out of each other is more realistic in my eyes.  And no problem with sending you the unedited versions.); **Dreamgirl21147** (thank you.); **Lauren** (thank you.  I'm glad you like 'Eyes' and I hope this one lives up to it.)


	3. Pay the Piper

**Author's Note: I'm glad to see that you're all liking this so far.  This was a fun chapter to write, so I hope you'll all enjoy it.**

**Author's Thanks at end.**

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Sands woke the next morning as the sun rose.  Ever since he'd regained his sight, he'd been unable to sleep much past sunrise.  It seemed wrong to waste daylight somehow.  So as the clock clicked to seven, Sands opened his eyes and looked at the woman he'd spent the last evening with.

   To his great surprise, she was still asleep.  He couldn't remember her sleeping this long or this peacefully in his presence before.  _Guess we found the cure for her nightmares,_ he smirked.  Sands carefully examined the picture she made in her sleep, gathering what information from her position that he could.  Her back was to him, and she had scooted as close to the edge of the bed as she could without falling off.  She was careful to guard herself from him even in her sleep, but the fact that she was still there said a lot in itself.  She disliked him, and very likely didn't trust him, but she didn't dislike him enough to leave the room and she didn't distrust him enough to stay awake.  Perhaps things would be easier than he'd expected.

   Stretching, lazily considering taking up the attack immediately, Sands froze as he heard footsteps outside the door.  All thoughts of a bit of indulgent fun slipped from his head.  Silently, he reached over and freed his gun from its holster, cocking it and aiming at the door.  Whoever was out there would be dead before they had the chance to cause any mischief.  But he had the feeling that he knew who it was . . . or at least what agency they were from.

   His suspicions were proved right when the door inched open to reveal a blond in a nice suit.  Sands gave Inge an insolent grin as he set his gun aside.  He lazily scratched his chest as he watched her face slowly turn red.  _Not only did I get laid by 'la niña,' but I get to tick __Rochester__ off as well.  To birds for the price of one._

   The blond doctor felt humiliation swamping her.  For the past seven months or so, she'd been trying to get Sands back into her bed just so _she_ could kick _him_ out, and now she found him wearing nothing but a smile and a sheet in a bed where Tess – her rival – seemed be equally unclothed.  It didn't take a doctorate to surmise what had happened the night before.  _First Logan, now Sheldon.  How does she do it?_  It didn't matter how she did it.  Tess wouldn't be doing it again.  This was the last time the Latina ever beat her to anything.

   With a look of disgust, Inge pointed downstairs emphatically, then left the room.

   Sands let his smirk fade from his face; it was his turn to be disgusted.  The CIA had sent a fucking babysitter after him to ensure the job got done.  _Damn._  Knowing Inge, she'd probably mention this cozy domestic scene to someone.  She'd always been one to stick her aristocratic nose where it wasn't wanted.  Not to mention she could be more than a bit petty when she felt that she'd been insulted.  _Not at all like Te. . . ._  Sands rolled out of bed, found his boxers and jeans, and put them on.  Not bothering with shirt or shoes – but retrieving his gun – he went downstairs, leaving any sympathetic feelings for Tess behind.  One couldn't pity a puppet they were about to use, and this morning was going to completely smash any 'delicate feelings' between them.  Which was exactly what he wanted.

   Wasn't it?

*************************

   Tess woke slowly as her mind floated through different levels of wakefulness.  First she became aware of how much light was hitting her closed eyelids, then that the house was quiet, that her skin was amazingly sensitive, and that she smelled . . . _Coffee?_

**_   Well, at least he has the decency to do that much._**

The voice sounded extremely awake, which was never a good thing.  It usually meant that it'd been plotting as she'd slept.  _What?_ Tess thought groggily.

**_   Sands._**  No response.  **_You _are_ aware that you're completely naked under the covers, aren't you?_**

_   Sands?_  Tessa's eyes popped open as she became fully awake and fully aware of what she'd done the night before, both at her voice's urging, and because part of her had wanted to be close to someone once without pain.  Twisting in her bed in panic, Tess searched the room for Sands.  _Fuck._  

_   **Yes.  Exactly.  **_The voice sounded irritatingly gleeful.  **_I'm glad to see you remember what happened last night.  What we did._**

_   We?_  Sands wasn't in the room.  He wasn't there, but that simply made the buzz of panic in her muscles increase.  If she couldn't see him, then she didn't know what he was doing.  And she couldn't see his reaction, then she didn't know what she was supposed to be doing in this situation.  She could deal with other things, had learned to shut down part of her mind in order to deal with certain situations.  But this?  This was new.  She didn't know where to store the memories or the feelings.  That was never good.  Especially now.  She _needed_ to know what to do, how to act.  Unconsciously, her hand started tapping agitatedly on the bed.  _WhatdoIdo__, whatdoIdo, whatdoIdo?_

   **_Calm down, tiger.  Go get dressed._**  Tess got out of the bed, trembling in shock.  **_It wasn't _that_ bad, Teresa.  _**Her voice stretched like a contented cat.  **_Besides, what makes you think that he's still in the house?_**

Tess pointed to the pile of clothes on the floor.  _I think that, because that isn't my t-shirt lying on the floor._

**_  Oh.  Maybe I was wrong._**  Tess picked up the shirt and went into her walk-in closet, closing the door behind her.  She put the shirt in her clothes hamper because that's where dirty clothes went.  She knew that.  **_That's right,_** the voice soothed,**_ now get dressed.  If he _is_ still here, you don't want to be caught naked.  That would mean you're defenseless.  And I don't intend on letting what happened last night to become a regular occurrence.  Or at least not with him.  _I_ can keep things in perspective – _you'll_ fall in love, and that's on my list of "no-no's"._**

Tess pulled on a pair of jeans and a heavy sweater.  She had chills racing down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature or even her voice.  There was ambient noise in her head, and that's what she feared.  She needed just the one voice.  As much as she grumbled, as much as it irritated her, _it_ at least could help.  The other voices were trouble._  What did you mean by 'we?'_  

   **_I mean exactly what it sounds like.  You and I both agreed that the best thing to do would be to go to bed with Sands.  And we did.  And it was very good.  Remember?_**  The voice pleasantly sent a bolt of sensation through her.  Tessa's knees went weak for a moment as she went into the bathroom.

   _Oh my god._

**_   Yes.  You said that several times last night as well.  Or we said it.  I'm still not quite clear on that._**

   Shaking her head as if that would help clear it, Tess looked in the mirror.  Her hair was a complete disaster, but her face was flushed and her eyes were bright.  Which was somewhat frightening since she felt as if she were falling apart inside.  With a shaky hand, she picked up her brush and started running it through her hair, her only instinct to follow her routine.  _What am I going to do?_

   **_How should I know?  This has never happened to me either._**

Tess pulled her hair back in a ponytail, smoothing it back until every hair was in place.  She washed her face in the sink, then took her pills.  _Now what?_ she asked as she washed the glass she'd just used.

   **_Breakfast?_**

_   I'll have to go downstairs.  What if he's there?_

**_   Then ignore him.  Trust me.  It'll be like he's not even there._**

_   Ok._  Stopping to put on her slippers, Tess left her room and went downstairs.

*************************

   The moment Sands walked into the living room, he realized just how much importance the agency was placing on this.  Not only was Ingrid here – and doing her best not to sulk – but so was Colton's aide, Paul Strauss, and another man that Sands didn't recognize.  Sands raised his eyebrows as he looked in the room, then turned on his heel to go into the kitchen and start some coffee.  If they wanted to talk to him, that was all fine and good, but they'd regret it if he didn't get some caffeine in his system first.

   Five minutes later he was sitting in an armchair across from Strauss, cup of coffee in one hand, lit cigarette in the other.  "What're you doing here, Strauss?  I was under the impression that I was going to be running this."

   Strauss looked at the other agent, taking in his state of disarray.  "Mixing business with pleasure, agent Sands?"

   "It's the way to go, Pauly."  Sands took a drag from his cigarette.  "You didn't answer my question."

   The man sighed, controlling his temper.  Director Colton had warned him that Sands wasn't going to appreciate his appearance, but now he was thinking that had been an understatement.  No matter how at ease Sands appeared, Strauss could feel the coiled tension in the man.  "We discovered a few days ago that the . . . intelligence on the Barillo woman wasn't complete.  We tried to inform you of this, but you weren't answering your phone."

   Sands blew a cloud of smoke in Strauss' direction.  "Technology.  It's so unreliable."  He knew Strauss wasn't buying it, but that was perfectly fine.  "What was this information that was so urgent?  Because, at the moment, I think I know more about Teresa Barillo than most men."

   The man Sands didn't know smirked, but Strauss was unamused.  "Agent Rochester informed me that Barillo is –"

   "Right behind you."  Tess had frozen for a moment when she'd found two strangers, her old roommate, and the man she'd . . . slept with . . . all in the same room.  Panic had nearly overwhelmed her before the mask she'd used for so many years slammed into place.  This was a situation that was normal compared to a 'morning after' scene.  Ruthlessly, nearly twenty years of her past exploded into vibrant life, controlling her reactions, but nearly eclipsing what she was really seeing.  It was as if one part of her mind was seeing 'now,' and the other – the part that was whispering continually – was seeing 'then.'  Seeing the similarities between this meeting, and countless others she'd attended under the cartel.

   **_Strangers in your home, Teresa.  They're here to cause trouble.  You have to get them out of the house.  You have to appear strong or they'll devour you.  Pay attention to the present and forget the other things you're seeing._**  With the help of her voice, the images of her past became hazy and ghost-like.  With her grasp of real-life a bit more firm, she continued descending the stairs, her only sign of tension the hand gripping the railing with a white-knuckled fingers.

   She entered the living room with her back straight, her head held high, and her face completely blank.  Sands watched as a very collected Tess sat down in a chair just a foot or so away from his.  He couldn't help but notice that she'd seated herself where she could see everyone in the room.

   Tess sat with her back ramrod straight – as she'd been taught by her etiquette teachers – completely still and apparently at ease.  Sands might have bought that if he hadn't felt the cloud of tight control around her or noticed how her left hand was tapping soundlessly but incessantly against the arm of the chair.  "To what do I owe the pleasure, señores?"  Tessa normally had a bit of an accent when speaking English, but now that accent was heavier than it normally was.  Sands frowned – was Tess putting on an act to make people underestimate her, or was she closer to losing it than he'd thought?  Now that he thought about it, she did seem like someone who'd give in to nervous breakdowns.

   Tess surveyed the room, tilting her head to the side as she noticed Inge.  "Oh, funny.  For some reason I thought you were dead."

   **_That's your old roommate, not Ajedrez.  _Ajedrez_ is dead._**

   "Oh, never mind.  My mistake."  Tess looked to Strauss.  "And who are you?"  Sands watched as the little drama unfolded, simply taking sips of his coffee and smoking his cigarette as if he were watching dinner theater or something like that.  However, when she asked that question, he felt a bit of guilt and what might be alarm shoot through him, energizing his muscles.  He doubted she'd take the news that he worked for the CIA well.

   "I'm Paul Straus, assistant to Director William Colton of the Central Intelligence Agency."

   Tess stared blankly at the man for a moment as her voice puffed up inside her head like an angry cat, hissing and spitting.  **_Government – they're as bad as a cartel.  They're here to use you.  Get out.  Now._**

It was funny to feel two such disparate emotions at once; the voice was angry and panicked, but Tess felt nothing but the weight of disaster weighing her down.  _And go where?  And why should I?  Didn't Sands use me last night?  I suppose we should have taken into consideration the fact that we were getting screwed in more than one way._  It was too late to run.  "What do you want, Paul Strauss of the CIA?"

   "Ms. Barillo –" he stopped when Tessa's eyes closed and she pressed the heel of her hand to forehead, looking to Inge in uncertainty when Tess rocked her body back and forth once or twice.  Then just as suddenly as she'd become distressed, she stopped, looking back up with a blank face and clear eyes.

   "I'm sorry.  I prefer to go by Teresa Adame.  I'm sure you can understand why I wouldn't want to be reminded daily that I'm the bastard daughter of a drug lord who more than likely ruined thousands of lives," she said matter-of-factly.  In fact there was no emotion in her voice at all.  Dismissing Strauss for a moment, she looked at Sands.  "I suppose you're CIA as well?" she asked almost pleasantly.

   He nodded.  Sands knew Tess better than anyone in this house, and he knew what she sounded like when she was trying to be pleasant.  This wasn't it.  This was the voice he'd heard as she'd begged to be left alone in her dreams.  Something was wrong.  Unfortunately, Strauss had never dropped the other shoe about what had been left out of the intelligence file on her.  Whatever it was, it was no small thing.

   "Ms. Adame."  Tess turned her head back to Strauss.  He was clearly trying to contain impatience.  "I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but I'm afraid we need your help."

   "_My_ help?"  That was funny.  She couldn't even help _herself_.  "You managed to dig up my 'secret past' somehow, you found me in my new home when I left no forwarding address with anyone, you managed to break into my house, and send an agent to spy on me.  And yet, you need _my_ help."  That was a joke.

   Strauss didn't even look ashamed of what had happened.  "Yes."

   "And what kind of help is it that you think you need?"  Again, there was that tone that Tess used when trapped in her nightmares, but there was an ironic smile on her face.  Both hands were tapping now, and she curled her legs under her to keep her feet from tapping as well.  Sands could see the minute tremors wracking her body, and for the first time, thought that perhaps this wasn't as good an idea as everyone seemed to think it was.

   "Pauly –"

   "Shh, Sands, I want to hear what the nice man has to say."

   Strauss mistakenly took this as a sign that she was willing to help.  He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he gestured with his hands.  "In the wake of last November's failed coup, we believed that the cartel run by your family was destroyed, but we've received evidence that it wasn't.  Not only is it intact, but it's looking to add to its territory.  We want you to help us get a man inside so we can shut them down once and for all."

   Sands watched as all the color drained from Tessa's face.  _God.  If they'd just left things to me I could have convinced her to help._  He knew that there was no way she was going to help now.  He only had a few hours worth of seeing emotions move over her face, but he had weeks of hearing her agitation and feelings.  She was going to say no, and they were going to push her, which normally, he wouldn't mind watching, but something told him that this would be getting in over all their heads.

   Tess laughed, waves of hysterical, barking laughter that had nothing to do with actual humor.  There was no way in hell that she was going back to Mexico.  Her laugher continued, as she shook her head in dismay.

   **_Shut up!  You're giving everything away._**

   The laugher stopped suddenly, as if someone had slit her throat.  "No."

**_   Damn you, Teresa.  You had to loose it, didn't you?  Look at them._**  Tess looked back at Strauss and at the nameless man behind him.  They were staring at her in a kind of fascinated horror.  **_They know.  Who do you think it was who told them?_**

   _Inge._  As the name ran through her mind, she realized she couldn't see her old roommate anymore.  She was in the act of jumping from her chair when a hand on her shoulder forced her back down, and a sudden dart of pain flowered in her arm.  She looked down in confusion, not really understanding that she was even feeling pain.  The sensation was disassociated, as if she were feeling sympathy pain for someone else.  But the needle in her arm turned that idea on its side.

   "What the hell is going on here?"  

   Tess was aware that Sands had jumped to his feet beside her, and that he was talking to the other men in the room, but she couldn't take her eyes from the blond, who had a triumphant smirk on her face.

   "What did you just give me?" she whispered, not in fear, but as if someone had just punched her in the gut.

   "Just a little something to hurry the process along and to show you just what might happen if you say no to this assignment."

**_   I always told you she hated you._**  Tess stood up, holding on to the chair back, the Whisperers were back, and they were louder than ever.  There was the one that was happy, and the one that was scared.  The one that hated, that was hungry, that loved, that lusted, that was angry, that laughed, that cried, that hid, that argued, that watched with empty eyes as someone died . . . they were all there.  All those and more.  Slowly, Tessa covered her ears as they yelled and battled for her attention.

   _Too quiet.  It's too quiet._  She had to drown them out.  Sands turned to Tess just in time to see her walk over to the stereo and start sorting through CDs.  _No good, no good, no good._  Finally she found what she wanted and put it in.  "A Night on Bald Mountain," she commented softly.  "She always did like that."  Almost sensually, Tess pressed the play button and turned back to the now silent group.  "Do you know why She likes it?"  Tess answered even though no one showed any inclination for her to do so.  "It's because we watched Fantasia once, and She liked how there was one demon who was stronger than all the other ghouls and goblins.  Like how Her voice is the loudest.  The others can come out to play, but She's really the one controlling them.  Although, at the moment they're under active revolt."  She laughed.  "You could say the Whisperers are throwing their own little coup d'etat."  Tessa's face dropped suddenly, and she walked over to Inge.  She studied the other woman, tilting her head this way and that, as if trying to make a decision.  "Shh, no.  That would make a mess," she commented, although not to anyone who was in the room.  "She always told me that you hated me.  She could never say why, though.  Why do you hate me, Ingrid?"

   Sands watched, frozen in place as Tess came apart before his eyes.  He was used to dealing with a lot of screwed up shit, but nothing like this.  Silently, he warned Inge not to answer, but the blond did just as she always did.  She decided that the best way to end a conversation was by verbally lashing out at whoever she was mad at.

   "I hate you because before you came along, I had my life planned out.  Grow up, become a very rich doctor, marry another very rich doctor, then settle down.  As the years passed, I decided Logan would be that doctor.  He was attractive, popular, came from a good family, and seemed to like me too.  And then you came along and then I was relegated to the friend that had to listen to how you were oblivious to how he felt about you.  But I got over that.  Moved on.  Went to work for the CIA, where I met Sheldon.  And he was almost mine, but he balked and I was willing to play out the line.  But he disappeared in Mexico, and then I heard that _you'd_ found him.  That _you'd_ tended him, comforted him, even preformed a miracle by giving him the opportunity to restore his eyesight.  How can any girl compete with that?  How can anyone compete with someone as _perfect_ as you?  God, you spent six weeks in a psych ward, and you _still _came in second in our class.  If you hadn't, you would have been first in the class.  And not only that, but you're as crazy as a loon, and men still flock to you because then they can 'protect' you.  They can be the big strong man with the helpless girl."  Inge glared at Tess.  "That's why I hate you."

   "Oh."  She looked off to her side and asked, "Satisfied?"  She then nodded and looked back at Inge.  "I just think that you should know that She wants to kill you because of what you've just done.  She doesn't mind trying to win, but She _hates_ it when others interfere in our game.  I think She's come to like me a little.  However, I don't want to kill you.  So we compromised."  Sands jumped forward to stop Tess, well aware that she knew how to defend herself, but Tess was faster.  Before Inge could move out of range, Tess had managed to throw a right hook into the other woman's eye, blackening it, before whirling her around and slamming her head into the wall.

   Sands grabbed Tess from behind, but the woman paid him no mind, looking down at Inge, who'd fallen to the floor and was staring up in shock.  Her body began to sway from left to right as she still looked down at her fallen foe.  Then her hand flew up, and Tess let out a low cry as again she slammed the heel of her hand into her forehead, like someone trying to get their computer to work.  Sands tightened his arms, prepared should Tess try to fight, but she didn't.  Instead her body moved back into Sands', pressing against him as one of her hands reached between them to knead his thigh.  //Yo sencillamente quero tu saber tan yo disfrutó pasado noches.\\   _I just want you to know that I enjoyed last night._  Her voice was a seductive purr.  //Terésa esta es un persona poco aventurera, y nunca poner en libertad jugar.\\  _Teresa__ is a stick-in-the-mud, and never lets me come out to play._

   "Is that right?" Sands asked without letting go.  There was no guarantee that Tess was going to stay like this for long.

   "Sí."  Almost as if she'd read his mind, again her hand clasped at her head, and again her behavior changed, although this time she was doing something he expected from her;  she was fighting to get free.  "Let me go, I'm sorry.  I won't do it again.  I promise.  Please father, please don't –"  Her voice broke off as she moaned and her body went limp.  Sands was lowering her to the floor when she suddenly twisted with a snarl, and broke out of his hold.  She stood, poised to run, and stared at him for a moment, then fled, running into a room down the hall and slamming the door behind her.

   Deciding that it was best to leave her alone for the moment, Sands turned on the three agents who had started all this.  "What the fuck was that about?"

   Strauss was holding a handkerchief to a split above Inge's left eye, while the woman tended to a split lip.  Sands had to admit that Tess knew how to inflict real damage if she got pissed off.  He'd have to remember that.  He switched his attention back to his 'superior' as the man answered his question.  "That was the last card in a poor hand, and unfortunately, it was a wild card.  We _need_ her to get inside the Barillo cartel.  Without her we'll fail and that would be a very large embarrassment to the CIA.  However, we knew she'd turn us down unless we had something to hold over her head.  Until Inge told us the one secret that Barillo has managed to hide all this time, the only threat we had was to deport her kids.  However –"

   "Stop talking in riddles and tell me what is going on."  Sands pulled his gun out of his holster and started twirling it around one finger as anguished cries started making their way through the door of Tessa's refuge.

   "She's a schizophrenic, Sheldon."  Inge batted Strauss' hand away and looked Sands in the eye.  "A grade A schizoid.  I've no idea how she even managed to get you back to the States without wigging out.  Or maybe she didn't.  Maybe she was overdosing on pills and suppressants.  Not that it really matters."

   "What the hell did you give her?" Sands demanded.

   "A few CCs of dopamine.  It threw the off the balance in her head.  Although, she was apparently already more than a little off balance after last night.  She would have wigged out on you eventually."  Sands didn't quite believe that.  Tess was made of strong stuff if she'd been holding off an imminent breakdown just to deal with his colleagues.  "Tell me, do you enjoy fucking total nutcases?"

   "You're such a cat, Inge."  Sands holstered his gun again.  "Because you know, it seems to me that, aside from being a little mentally ill, she's pretty normal."  He grinned, "Besides, at least I don't have to worry if she's faking it in the sack."  Inge growled and tried to hit him, but Strauss held her back.

   "That was unnecessary, agent Sands."

   "So's holding a woman's sanity over her head.  If you'd waited just another twenty-four hours, I could have gotten her to go along with things without all the histrionics, although I realize that would have robbed you of your power rush."

   "What's wrong, Sheldon?  Don't tell me you actually _care_ about Teresa," Inge mocked.

   "No, I just prefer not to have my toys stolen."  A loud crash came from the bathroom.  _Fuck._  Sands was sure he'd heard glass breaking.  In her current frame of mind, who knew was Tess could do.  Walking across the room, he grabbed Inge's wrist and hauled her to her feet.

   "What the hell do you think you're doing, Sheldon?" she demanded, trying to free herself.

   "You're the doctor in the house.  I would think it'd be in the best interests of the Agency if you managed to calm your 'old friend' down before she slits her wrists, or OD's on meds, or something equally fatal."

   Sands had managed to drag Inge partway down the hallway, when the front doors opened.  Both agents twirled around, Sands going for his gun, but the only person there was the housekeeper.  And the youngest kid.

   Cora just froze on the threshold, a bag of groceries in her arms.  Selena however, had no problem with the strange people in the house.  The toddler was a natural people person, loving to sit and babble at complete strangers if the opportunity ever opened for her to do so.  And because of this natural and cheerful tendency, she headed for Sands and Inge with determined and nearly running footsteps.  "Lena!  Parada!"  _Stop!_

   The girl paused uncertainly, and looked back at Cora, before heading for Sands again.  Reluctantly, Sands put his gun away, although he made no move to pick up the child clinging to his pant leg.  "Looks like you're off the hook, Inge.  I bet Cora would be able to lend more of a hand than you will.  Wouldn't you?" he addressed the woman who was still standing in the open door.  There was another crash in the bathroom and more yelling.

   "Oh my god."  Cora dropped her groceries and went to the bathroom door, pushing past Sands.  She tried to open it, but it was locked.  "Tessa?  Open the door!"

   "Stay away from me!  I _know_ what you want.  I know.  Just leave me alone."

   Cora looked at the strange man who was still ignoring the toddler who was clinging to him.  "Who are you?"  She shook her head, asking another question before he could answer.  "Never mind that.  I need to know what set her off and how long she's been like this."  The sound of running water emerged from the room.

   Sands wasn't quite sure how to answer that.  What was he supposed to say?  Oh, well, I spent the majority of last evening screwing your boss, and then this morning she was already teetering on the edge of a major psychological breakdown before one of my colleagues and ex-lover gave her something that would ensure she'd go berserk?  "I'm afraid that one of my fellow agents got a little trigger happy with a syringe of dopamine."

   Cora simply stared at the man, revulsion slowly creeping over her face.  "And who do you happen to be?  How did you get into the house?"

   "Well, I can't speak for the rest of them, but I picked the lock."  Sighing, Sands pulled his ID out of his back pocket.  "Sheldon Sands, CIA."  He let the woman take it and examine it.

   "Nice to see gratitude in action," she muttered, giving the badge back to him.

   "What's that supposed to mean?"

   Cora shook her head.  "Since I get the feeling you're part of the cause of this, you can help me."  She pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door.  "If Tess hasn't settled down and gone into one of her periods of withdrawal, then I'm going to need you to restrain her while I give her a tranquilizer and a dose of her dopamine suppressant."

   Sands looked down at Selena who'd taken to standing on his foot and begging for attention.  "And what am I supposed to do with, shorty, here?"

   Cora sighed and picked the toddler up, carrying her into the spare bedroom across the hall and setting her in a playpen.  The child instantly started to cry, but Cora simply shut the door.  There'd be time to comfort the child later, after Tess had been taken care off.

   Coming back to the door, she unlocked it, but didn't immediately open it.  "Tessa?" she called.  "I'm coming in."  There was no answer.

   The woman opened the door, slowly pushing it open, standing to one side of the doorway as Sands stood on the other.  They cautiously looked inside the small room; Tess was sitting in a bathtub full of steaming water, fully clothed, and playing with a piece of the broken mirror.  She was humming to herself softly, occasionally pricking her fingers on the pointed piece of glass.  "Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall.  Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall.  All the king's horses, and all the king's men, couldn't put Humpty together again."  She giggled.

   "Tess?"  The woman's head turned towards the duo in the doorway, but she didn't look away from her piece of mirror.  "What are you doing, Tess?"

   "They want to know what we're doing," she confided to the reflective surface.  "What should I tell them?"  She was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.  "Yes, that'll do.  She says that we're cold and we can't feel anything.  She doesn't like that.  I think She's spoiled after last night – I let Her feel things with me."  Finally Tess looked up, smiling at Cora, but staring blankly at Sands.

   He looked back at her, stifling the shock that was rising up in him.  How had she managed to hide this so well?  It was true that he'd had other things to deal with during the time he'd spent with her, but this. . . .

   Tess looked away, sinking down into the water even more.  "Black death with no eyes," she muttered.  "Go away.  You're not supposed to be here.  I left.  I left for you.  You were supposed to accept that.  A woman will always sacrifice herself if you give her the opportunity.  It is her favorite form of self-indulgence.  Why couldn't you give me that much?"  She turned the sliver of glass and raised her left hand out of the water.  With the utmost concentration and care, she slowly pressed the glass against her hand, trailing it from wrist bone to the fist knuckle of her pinky finger.  A fine line of crimson emerged in its wake.  "Why can't I feel it?" she muttered.

   Cora went into the room and looked in the destroyed medicine cabinet, cursing when she saw the shattered remains of the injection she needed to give Tess.  She turned to Sands, "Watch her and stop her if she tries to do any serious damage.  I have to go get another injection out of another room."  She left and Sands entered the bathroom, careful to avoid stepping on any of the slivers of glass on the floor.  

   He took a seat on the toilet and watched Tess as she ignored him.  "What are you doing, niña?"

   Tess sighed.  "Razors pain ya, Rivers are damp,/Acids sting ya, Drugs cause cramp,/Guns aren't lawful, Nooses give,/Gas smells awful, Ya might as well live."  She finally looked at Sands.  "When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."  She looked back at her hand and started tracing her lifeline, raising a small welt.  "Why?  Why me?"

   "What do you mean?"

*************************

   Tess didn't answer Sands.  She was too busy listening to her mind.

   **_All I'm saying is, maybe _he_ can help us feel._**

   Tess looked into the small fragment of mirror she held.  It'd taken several minutes to find the one that held Her.  She'd had to discard the ones that held Whisperers.  It was funny – she'd never actually _seen_ her voice before, but for some reason she wasn't surprised to see it looked like a desert fox.  Big ears, a small body for getting into small places, and used to surviving in wastelands others avoided.  "No.  Why would that be any different?  I can't feel.  There's not enough left of me to feel.  They've taken it all.  I'm all broken inside."

**_   Fine.  You don't want to die, you don't want to feel, you don't want to talk to anyone. . . .  So what's the purpose of sitting here?_**

   "I don't know."

   **_Look.  One kiss is all it would take to find out whether or not he can help.  And I don't think he'd really be disinclined to going along with it._**

   "Right.  Who cares that I'm not myself?"

**_   Are you going to do it, or not?_**

   "Fine."  Tess slowly stood up, dropping the mirror as she did so.

**_   Clumsy idiot!  Pick me up.  I don't like getting wet._**

   Sands watched as Tess bent over and searched for the piece of glass she'd dropped.  It was eerie to sit and listen to her converse with someone only she could hear.  Once she had the mirror back in hand, she looked at him, studying him intently.  Then she sighed again, as if resigned to her fate, then started pulling the sweater over her head.  He watched, still somewhat in shock as she pulled the sodden piece of clothing off and dropped it into the tub.  _Wet t-shirt contest.  _She was wearing a light green t-shirt underneath the sweater, which was also soaking wet, and he could see that she'd put on a bra under the t-shirt.  She then set the mirror fragment on the side of the tub and removed her jeans, revealing dark blue underwear.  This done, she climbed out of the tub and seated herself on his lap.  He moved his hands away so they'd be free to pin her arms to her sides if he had too, but he was wary of doing anything else.

   Footsteps distracted him from his study of Tess – Cora was in the doorway.  One eyebrow was raised as she surveyed the scene.  Sands automatically started to defend himself, on edge because of Tessa's strange behavior.  "I –"

   "I know, you didn't do anything.  At least not this morning.  Something tells me that you _did_ do something to make her fixated on you though.  Possibly, it's just all the time she spent with you last year."  Cora shook her head.  "Just keep her still as I give this to her."  She set the tranquilizer on the counter; Tess was acting calm enough that Cora thought the suppressant would be enough to help her get back under control.

   Meanwhile, Tess was leaning in to touch Sands.  She could feel resistance when her fingers met his chest, but couldn't feel any textures, couldn't feel the warmth of his skin.  "This isn't going to work," she muttered, but she pressed on anyway.  Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his; if he responded, she couldn't tell.  Disgusted, she started to get up, but his arms trapped her.

**_   Not good.  Get away._**

"Why bother?" she asked.  "It doesn't matter."  She relaxed, turning her head to watch as Cora primed the syringe.

   Cora was relieved when Tess didn't fight against Sands' firm hold on her.  The last thing she needed was for the needle to break off in Tessa's arm.  She quickly gave the shot as Tess watched her out of blank eyes.  "Let's get her into bed.  She'll sleep most of the day, if not the entire day.  And then you can give me some answers as to what's going on."

*************************

   Sands didn't like being recruited as a male nurse.  If he had his way, he'd be free of this place until Tess was in a condition to talk to him again.

**_   She helped you, Sheldon.  Just get her into bed._**

   _Why is it that you only appear around **her**?_  Sands was convinced that this voice was his conscience.

   He gently laid Tess on her bed.  She stirred, her gaze loosing some of the vacuous haze that'd started taking her over after Cora had given her the medication.  "I know you," she murmured.  Sands didn't answer.  Tess sighed and turned her head to look out the window.  "I understand it all now.  I understand why they did it, why you didn't want to contact your bosses.  I couldn't either.  I don't like governments.  I don't like cartels.  All either of them care about is power."  She was tired and the Whisperers were finally falling silent.  That just left what she had to say to him.  "The fear of death is what keeps you alive,/A deadly mission you must survive,/You lurk in the shadows, darkness a friend,/The lies begin and never end,//Secret agent, your law is a gun,/Secret agent, you trust no one,/Secret agent, a man in black,/Secret agent, a gun at your back,//Truth is out there, you know it's a lie,/Trust no one, if you do you die,/Government deployed, what's at stake?/Double agent out on the stake,/Charged with treason, secrets to sell,/Signed in blood, a contract with hell,/Followed orders, no questions asked,/Suicide mission, could be your last . . ."  With great effort Tess focused her tired eyes on Sands.  "That was you, wasn't it?"

   "What are you talking about?"  Sands looked at Tess, trapped by the unveiled secrets in her eyes.

   "Great wits are sure to madness near allied/And thin partitions do their bounds divide."  Tess laughed, but it was a hollow laugh.  _He was wearing black.  Even the blood on his face was turning black.  _"I can see it all.  You didn't trust anyone –except for my half-sister.  You controlled the 'truth' that people heard, but didn't get enough of it yourself.  You were playing both sides, weren't you?  That's why you're still working for _them_.  But when you played with the cartel, you didn't know what you were getting into.  And it was too late when you finally found out, so you settled for killing as many as you could before dying yourself."  Tess yawned.  "Do you hate me for that?  For not letting you die?"  Her eyes closed, releasing him.  "I think you do.  That's why you came back when they offered you the chance."  She drifted off into sleep, but not before she murmured, "Lo siento."  _I'm sorry._

   Sands moved to the doorway, watching as Cora took over, ignoring the sharp glances the woman shot him every now and again.  He had bigger problems on his hands.

   He needed a smoke.****

***********************************************************************

**Quotes: Benny and Joon; ****W. Somerset**** Maugham; Girl, Interrupted; Mark Twain; Anvil; Dryden**

**Author's Thanks:**  Thanks go to:

**C.J. Davis** (if I've evoked an emotional response from you, then I know I'm doing a good job.); **Isola** (thanks.  Not being mentally ill myself, it's difficult for me to really know what I'm doing, but I have a great beta who's taking care of that sort of thing for me.  ^_^  As for where I stopped, it had to be done for those readers who'd rather avoid such things.); **Pixy** (that would be strange, to see a completely different person that who you were used to.  I imagine it'd be just as hard as looking at someone who'd lost their eyes.); **Nimwen** (I'm glad that I'm managing to maintain the standard I set with 'Eyes'.  I'm doing this, and I'm loving it, so I don't want to do it halfway.); **Kontara** (I don't think you ever sent me your e-mail so I could send you the unedited versions.  If you still want them, I'd love to send them to you.); **pirategurl85** (I like your e-mail address.  I'm also glad that you're enjoying my story(s).  This is something I started because I had a crazy idea, and apparently, it wasn't so crazy afterall.); **Dreamgirl21147** (I hope this was up soon enough for you.) **Beringae** (I'm amazed that people stay up that late to read things.  I don't know why – I once stayed up until five to finish a particularly long fic in another fandom – but I'm always gratified to hear it.  I'm glad that you found that I'm keeping Sands in character.  He's a tricky one.  ^_^); **Aurelius** (broken records are fun.  ^_^);  **Crystal** **Symphony** (thanks for the complements.  Like I've said often enough, Sands is a tricky one, and there's so many ways to interpret him.  Mine will be different than anyone else's, and probably a bit different than Johnny's even, but I do try to do my best to keep him in the character I've given him.); **The** **Flaming** **Chia** **Pet** (I hope you enjoyed the slip.  I know I loved writing it.); **Nefarious** **Coda** (why beat around the bush when straight facts can be ever so much more enticing?  ^_^); **Dreamshadow13** (No, 'I love you' definitely would not work right now.  I'm not sure it'll ever work.  I suppose I'll find out if it does right along with the rest of you.); **Digital** **Diamond** (again, thanks for beta-ing.  I'm glad to keep things as realistic as possible.); **grace** (I try to do things like that, using that little conversation.  I know I remember conversations I've had for years, even if they weren't important.  I still remember what song I had stuck in my head at an event I went to two years ago.  Real life involves those little memories triggered by innocent conversation, and I like including that.); **Kristin** (That was one thing that did manage to bug me about 'Eyes'.  There was a small space of time that I had to keep the events inside of, but there was so much that needed to be said, so many POV's to explore.  So much character building to do.  Now I've got most of that set and can move along faster.  Not to mention that this is going to have a bit more action in it.); **Krissy** (College material sucks, I agree.); **Gia-Jolie** (I've always thought that if you're going to borrow someone else's characters, that you should try to keep them as true to character as possible.  I'm just glad that I've managed that.  And Tess . . . well, I love Tess.  She's my baby. ^_^); **nebber** (thanks.  I'm glad that everyone has liked those first two chapters so far, and I'm glad that you were glad to find more of the story.  ^_^)

And lastly, thanks to my team of awesome betas: Ashley, Merrie, and Sara (oddly enough).  Without you, this story wouldn't be nearly as good as I hope it is.


	4. Morning After

**Author's Note:  here we go, chapter three in all it's glory.  I have nothing to say, other than it's 19 days until Secret Window comes out, and that makes me really excited.**

**Author's thanks at the end.**

**Quotes always appreciated.**

*******************************************************************

_In her dream, Tess was dressed in a linen suit and a silk blouse.  Her hair was coiled around her head in a braid, and not a single hair was out of place.  She was wearing a gold filigree bracelet, a gold crucifix on a gold chain, and gold studs in her ears.  Her father liked it when she wore gold.  She was sitting at a small table on an open-air patio that overlooked a well-tended garden.  There was a pot of tea on the table, along with delicate and expensive porcelain cups and saucers, plates of pastries, and other tea-time paraphernalia.  _

_   All in all, Tess would have been well pleased with this, but the man across from her ruined it all.  "Hello, Father."  Her dream self was well aware that this man had been dead for a year now, but that didn't seem strange at all._

_   "Have you come to your senses yet?"_

_   "What do you mean?"_

_   Barillo shook his head and steepled his fingers.  "Fine.  I will humor you.  Have you yet realized that it was a mistake to run away from your home?  Your family?"_

_   "It wasn't a mistake."_

_   "Then what have you been doing with your life?  What did you do after leaving home?"  Tess looked down at her lap, knowing she'd done nothing.  Nothing really worthwhile.  "Did you return to the States and become a great doctor?  Did you start up a clinic in __San Antonio__ or __Mexico City__ where your money and knowledge would be useful?  Did you find a teaching position at a grand university?"  He looked at her, almost in pity.  "No.  You hung onto the coattails of the cartel, and you listened for news of what your family was doing.  As it should have been, you found **meaning** in your family."_

_   "What I **found** was a trail of victims.  What I **found** were families broken by your presence.  **None** of what I did was caused by any lingering sense of familial bonds."_

_  "Come now, Teresa.  Tell yourself the truth."  She just stared at the man who'd fathered her.  "Somewhere, somewhere inside you, you were searching for your family, and you were grateful to us for giving you meaning, even if you hated the meaning left to you after leaving.  You could have left all this behind at any time, but you didn't.  Even in your dreams you return here."  His voice made shame flower inside her.  "What did I always teach you?"_

_   "Family is stronger than blood," she whispered.  Some part of her traitorous mind actually believed what he was saying.  "But –"_

_   "No.  No 'buts.'  No excuses.  Excuses are for the weak willed, and you, Teresa, are anything by weak willed."  He threw a sheaf of photographs on the table between them, motioning for her to take them.  It didn't matter that he hadn't had them moments before, because this was a dream and anything could happen in dreams.  Photographs could appear out of nowhere and she could sit down and have a civil conversation with a man she hated.  "Look at yourself.  At what you have chosen."_

_   As Tess looked at each picture, it seemed to come alive, both before her eyes and inside her mind.  Each scene revolved around Sands – a man she had every right to despise and **should** despise.  But didn't.  "What does this have to do with family?"  She didn't understand._

_   "This man is more like your family than you wish to admit.  Look again."  Tess did, and this time she saw not only Sands, but the dead family members that his actions sometimes reminded her of.  The one who showed up the most was Barillo himself.  "That is why you find yourself drawn to the man.  It is the reflection of me that you see in him."_

_   It couldn't be true.  "No.  He's different.  He . . . he. . . ."_

_   "He used you, **is** using you, and plans on using you?"_

_   "Yes."  Even in her own ears her voice sounded defeated._

_   "Do you know why you do this, Teresa?"_

_   She shook her head.  "It doesn't matter.  If I know, I can stop."_

_   "No.  You can't stop.  You let him use you because in your heart you still long for family.  You see us represented in him, and you long for what he can do.  You know he can replace my place in your life.  I represented control, discipline, purpose, and even a measure of safety to you.  When you lived at home you **always**__knew what your task was.  You had a role.  Your life had **meaning**.  You had one purpose when you were with us, didn't you?"  She nodded.  "You miss that.  You miss having one task to focus your mind on."_

_   "But the children . . . I look after them. . . ."_

_   "Caring for someone else's brats is not a purpose, Teresa.  It is a duty.  One you share with someone more capable of dealing with the multitude of choices and minor emergencies they create.  You are not truly needed by them, and you know that.  But Sands, he **needed** you, even if he hated that need and hated you for filling it.  Yet, here you are again, thrown back together with this man, thrown back into a situation with your family, and you **long** for it."_

_   "No –"_

_   "Yes.  You long for the single-mindedness that comes from having just **one** purpose.  You fear falling into the clutches of the cartel not because you fear them, but because you know you will be tempted to stay with them.  You would hate them every day of your life, but you would be tempted by the purpose they represent."  He sighed and leaned back into his chair.  "And yet, as much as I would rejoice to see you back in the arms of your family, I cannot help feeling uneasy.  This man, Sands, he represents these things too.  It would be easy for you to find your meaning in him, to devote yourself to him.  And despite all evidence to the contrary, you are right.  He **is** different, even if the differences are nearly small enough not to count.  He could very well come to see you and long for what you could represent to him.  The possibility of you.  If I could be sure that that possibility would scare him enough to stay away from you. . . ."  Barillo shook his head.  "You must kill him, Teresa.  Not now.  Not where you might be caught.  But once you return to __Mexico__, then you must turn him over to your family."_

_   "No –"  The mere suggestion hurt.  "I can't."_

_   "You **must.**  The conflicting loyalties between the two – your family and your would-be lover – will tear you to pieces.  Your mind will continue to fragment until there is nothing left but the madness, and you trapped, insensible, in its grip.  Is that what you want?"_

_   "No," she whispered._

_   "Then you will do as I say.  You will go to __Mexico__.  You will present yourself to the new leader.  And to prove your loyalty, you will give him Sands' head on a platter."  The dream started to fade before she could deny this.  "As certainly as my blood flows in your veins, you will do this, dau. . . ."_

*********************************

 The dream ended before the word could be completed.  Tess opened her eyes to an empty room, darkened by night.  Without a second thought, she turned back over and went to sleep, the medication's grip still tight on her mind.

*********************************

The next time Tess woke up, it was past 8:30 the next morning.  Tess looked at her bedside clock, and sighed.  She wouldn't be able to get out of bed until nine.  She didn't know why, she just didn't like the number eight.  It was one of those strange quirks that went with the territory of being clinically mentally unstable.

   "Ah, sleeping beauty awakes."

   Tess closed her eyes in defeat.  No matter where she turned, she was forced to confront reality.  Maybe she wasn't ready to do so yet.

**_   That's fine.  You don't have to.  Just sit back and relax.  I'll take care of it._**

_   No.  It's my life.  My life that's come calling.  _She rolled over and closed her eyes.  _Just let him sit there and wonder why I'm not talking to him.  Let him wonder if I'm myself yet.  Which I'm not._  Tess knew that lethargy would be her constant companion for the next day or so.  She would force herself out of bed – eventually – but she'd be in no condition to do anything other than that.  _Maybe a puzzle.  I like puzzles.  Or that box of buttons I bought at that yard sale.  They still need to be sorted._  The lure of having a mess to straighten distracted her from her guest for the time being.

   Sands sat back in his chair as Tess ignored him.  Cora was faithfully keeping the kids occupied, although it was only a matter of time before Marcos came in . . . and perhaps the young one.  She seemed to be persistent.  He needed to talk to Tess before then.  While Strauss and his cronies had left soon after yesterday's 'incident,' he'd been left with a message saying they expected an answer by tonight.  

   Sands gone to his hotel room after Tess had fallen asleep last night, showered, slept a bit, but mostly he'd sat around and considered just what ramifications Tessa's clearly-impaired mental state might have on this mission.

   First of all there was the fact that Tessa's state of mind was not something that could be depended on.  He didn't like that.  The less she was able to do, the more he was going to have to do to make sure that he – they – were not caught.  Being caught this time would mean certain death.  He was lucky that he hadn't been killed straight off the last time.  Getting caught again . . . it wasn't going to happen.

   He'd smoked.  A week ago he was considering this assignment a godsend – now it was starting to resemble a time-bomb.  One misstep on her part, and not only was he dead, but so was she.  No.  If her 'family' was looking for her this intensely, it was unlikely they'd kill her.  There was no such guarantee for him.  So no matter what else happened, the first thing he'd have to do was make sure his own ass was covered.

   What were the other possibilities?  Tess had a total mental breakdown and had to be left behind while he got out.  Tess had a partial breakdown – enough to endanger them both, but not enough to confirm any suspicions.  What did he do then?  Simple enough, he got out the moment it looked as if any unwanted attention was going to be turned his way.  Tess held herself together, but things didn't work out.  That was a greyer area.  What happened next would depend on circumstances, not hypotheses.  Tess held herself together and things did work.  What happened after that?  He left her?  He carried out his plan to make her hate him?  He didn't want to think about that.  If anything was going to happen on that front, it was going to be based more on impulse than plan anyway.

   For the most part he thought she'd be able to handle things.  His intuition was telling him that she'd be able to cope in a situation she'd been raised in.  That contradicted popular opinion, but he was willing to go along with that.  He'd managed to get his hands on her medical charts – the only other recorded breakdown she'd had had been in med school.  That was when she'd been identified as having schizophrenia.  Since then, medication and semi-regular psychologist visits had been keeping her stable.  There had been a note though, from her shrink, saying that she needed to avoid extreme emotional upheaval.  Something she'd had heaped on her within the past twenty-four hours.  

   He felt somewhat guilty about that – not enough to regret anything, but enough to wonder how much his sudden reappearance and the subsequent events of their night together had had to do with her breakdown.  He justified himself by thinking that it wasn't as if he'd known anything about this, but some nagging part of him told him that he should have.  There'd been enough hints dropped: the fidgeting, the quotes, the constant concerns from her friends about her health and their repeated attempts to get her to sleep enough.  Her background. And never once had he suspected that she might be anything other than what she pretended to be.  He had half a degree in psych – he should have known _something_.

**_   Perhaps you should have taken the time to find out._**

_   Perhaps she should have said something about this.  I certainly wouldn't have stuck around with her if I'd know she was insane. . . ._  He cursed.  That was why she'd never said anything.  Her overblown sense of responsibility.  She'd been so intent on getting him help that she'd know exactly what a full disclosure would have done.  He would have abandoned her long before meeting Pierce, and he'd still be blind somewhere, bitter and useless.

   Sands had frozen at that thought.  Was he actually empathizing with the woman?  He was.  _Judas Priest._  What was it about her that raised emotions in him in the first place?

   He knew that was what was really pissing him off.  Amusement was a reaction he could have handled.  Minor disgust at her behavior.  Irritation that Strauss and Inge could be so dramatic.  But he hadn't felt any of those.  He'd gone and broken his number one rule – don't get involved in the game.  You think he would have learned _something_ from Mexico.  He'd gotten involved then, although that involvement had been strictly physical with perhaps a hint of sentimentality.  Watching Tess as she ignored him, he realized that that record had just been shot to hell.__

   What was bugging him?  What was bugging him was the game that was supposed to be laid out neatly on a board had just become real.  The chessboard that was his job – and occasionally his life – had just been knocked off the table.  He needed to capture the opponent's queen, and he found that he . . . that he had more in common with her than was comfortable.  He was surprised that she hadn't laughed out loud when he'd asked if she knew what it was like to have people watching in horror.  _And there went my objectivity._

   If he was honest with himself, he could admit that his objectivity had been lost long ago.  If he was truly mad at Tess, he should have just shot her in the head, or not bothered to do anything.  Get the job done, then burn her.  But no, his revenge had to be 'personal.'  Then he'd gone and gotten upset when he realized that Tessa had had help going over the edge.  Being injected with foreign chemicals without giving permission was a sore spot for him now, and he hadn't liked seeing that happen to Tess.  He didn't like realizing that if she hadn't met him, she wouldn't be in this now.  No one would know where to find her.

   Sands got up and left the room.  Sitting and watching Tess wasn't helping him think clearly.  He needed to know how to approach the woman – what argument would get her to 'join the cause.'  If he couldn't do that, he'd need to request that someone else take over the assignment because he'd get himself killed.

*********************************

When Tess turned back over, an hour or so later, she was alone.  It was now past eight, so she could get up and move around, but she lacked the motivation.  Why bother?  Cora could handle the children – they didn't need her.  Sands was lurking somewhere, ready to accost her.  Perhaps his buddies were still around.  Perhaps Inge was still around.  The reasons for staying in bed were adding up quickly.

   **_You're such a wuss._**

_   Yes, I am.  At least when I can afford to be._

**_   Fine.  Then as long as you're laying there, you might as well think about what you're going to do.  You have two choices: resist and spend the rest of your days with me for company – because you know that's what you were being threatened with – or go along with it._**  The voice paused.  **_What's that poem you're always reciting?_**

_   What?_  There were several poems she was always reciting.

**_   The one about losers._**

_   Oh, right._  Tess wracked her lazy mind.  _Wandering by lone sea breakers,/and sitting by desolate streams –_

_   **No.  Further on.**_

_   One man with a dream, at pleasure/shall go forth and conquer a crown/And three with a new song's measure/can trample an empire down._  Tess thought a moment.  _But there'll only be two of us.****_

**_   Not the point.  If you _can_ damage the cartel, should you try?_**

_   It'll be dangerous._

**_   Do you _want_ to live with the ruined lives of thousands on your head?  It'll be your fault.  Especially if you can actually take the cartel down.  They hurt you – get them back._**

_   I'll be alone!  What can I do by myself?!_   Tess asked this to cover up her real fear.  She didn't know what would happen if she went back to the hacienda after all this time.  That was where her voice had made its first appearance.  Would it feed off that?

**_   You won't be alone.  Sands will be with you._**  Tess swore that the voice was grinning evilly.  **_Speak of the devil._**

   Tess turned her head to stare at the man standing in her doorway.  "Who is it?"  She saw the look on his face, the look that wondered if she was totally there.  "Which family member am I being asked to betray?"

   Sands moved slowly into the room.  It'd be good if he didn't have to argue her around – god, he still wasn't sure what to say to her to get her to cooperate.  She might be mad, but she was in no way stupid.  He had the feeling that she knew exactly what was at stake.

   Tess saw his hesitation and felt humiliation burn its way through her.  He was scared of her.  "I'm unbalanced, not insane, Sands.  I'm not going to bite."

   "Pity."  He sat down in the chair next to the bed.  "Carlos.  Carlos Barillo."

   _What?_   Tess looked at Sands as if _he_ was the one who was insane.  "Carlos Barillo?  There isn't a 'Carlos Barillo.'  Whoever sent along that intelligence had no idea what they were talking about."  

   "Then who do you think has taken over the cartel?"

   Tess relaxed into her pillows.  "Carlos.  Carlos took it over.  That was always the plan if Barillo and Ajedrez both died.  He was second in command and in charge of security.  Ajedrez was supposed to take over the cartel eventually, I was supposed to be her medical slave, and Carlos was going to be her chief of security.  A cartel is very like a family business."  Family, her family, her problem.

   "I thought you said there wasn't a Carlos."  If he didn't know better, he'd say she was still delusional.  But he'd seen her eyes and they were clear and lucid, if dull.

   "I said there wasn't a Carlos Barillo.  But there is a Carlos.  Carlos Velasquez.  His father was the brother of Celia, who was Ajedrez's mother."

   "So he's not actually related to you."  Sands was carefully storing this information away.

   "No, not blood.  But he is family.  We were all family, even if I was the scapegoat, the outsider.  Family is stronger than blood, a bond that ties knots tighter than those of ancestry."  Tessa's gaze became unfocused.  "He touched me once.  I remember that."  No one was supposed to touch her – deprivation of human touch had just been another of Barillo's tactics to control her.  The only time she was supposed to be touched was when she was being punished.  But Carlos had given her a hug once – from one cousin to another.  They'd both been punished for that, but she still remembered.

   Sands carefully kept his face blank.  Interrogations were a game, just like poker.  He needed to bluff and keep his face blank to win, but he wondered what that last comment had meant.  This cousin had 'touched' her.  What was the context of that touch?

   Ruthlessly, he jerked his mind off a track that may lead to concern for Tess as a person, and refocused his attention on his primary goal for being here.  "I take it, this means that you're going to help."

   Tess shrugged.  "We are today in the most literal sense a lawless society, for our _law_ has ceased to be law and become instead its opposite – mere force at the disposal of whoever is at the controls."  A sigh escaped her.  "However, it looks like I don't have much of a choice, do I?  Either I face a living nightmare in Mexico, or my charges are deported while I'm given a permanent home in a room with padded walls."  Her eyes examined his.  "What's it like to discover that your government is playing by cartel rules to destroy the threat they're imitating?"  Her eyes darted away.  "I'll tell you what it feels like – it blows."

   That stung . . . but she was right.  Even he could see that fear and intimidation were being used to corral her into doing something she didn't want to do.  He could see that not only were his bosses using those tactics, but he'd been using them.  Why not use it?  It was effective.  Find the one thing a person held dear, then use it against them.  He'd seen . . . or not seen . . . the effects of that, up close and personal.  It was an uncomfortable revelation to be confronted with, but a fact that was unlikely to change any time soon.  _When you swim with sharks. . . . _ "You're acting like you haven't been given a choice."

   Clearly, he didn't understand.  "I've always had a choice, Sands.  It's my own fault I let people who knew my secret live.  I could have killed them all, but I chose not to.  I could have let you die, but I helped.  I could have killed myself, but I didn't.  It's your own fault that you're here now, and that you're helping them.  We all have choices.  I try not to regret mine.  Can you say the same?"  Tess turned on her side, facing away from him.  "Go report back to your handlers.  Tell them I'll do it, and that I'll meet with them tomorrow.  Now, go away."

   Sands thought about firing off a retort, but decided against it.  Tess had been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours and it looked like they would be working rather closely in the months to come.  He wasn't ready for her to totally despise him quite yet.  "Sleep well, niña."  Over her blanketed shoulder, she flipped him off.

*********************************

Tess fidgeted in front of her mirror.  If she was going to go downstairs and face these men, she was going to look as professional as she could.  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she examined everything from her make-up to her posture.  She was wearing just enough concealer to cover the dusting of freckles that ran over the bridge of her nose, her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, she was wearing black slacks and a black suitcoat over a sapphire blue shirt.  She didn't bother with jewelry – she wanted them to see a competent, worldly, woman.  Not a fragile miss or a case number.

**_   You won't fool Sands.  He's already seen the both just how fragile and just how worldly you are.  He won't buy this._**

   Tess ignored her voice.  Thoughts like that were not going to help.  _All the fame I look for in life is to have lived it quietly._  She adjusted the way her jacket rested on her shoulders.  _This would be an easier pill to swallow if I had any confidence that they wanted me for my qualifications._  But that wasn't the reason they'd sought her out.  All they wanted was her blood – which was exactly what the cartel wanted.  After a lifetime of being worthless because of 'diluted' blood, she was now a valuable commodity, and she found that she didn't like it at all.  She just wanted to live her life.  Unfortunately, that included dealing with these people and with Carlos.

   The clock on her bedroom mantle chimed.  She was now officially late for her meeting.  Oh well.  She was always late, and she didn't seem to mind keeping these people waiting a bit longer.  Anything to show them that she could make their lives uncomfortable just as easily as they could ruin hers.

**_   You're primping.  Just go downstairs already._**

   _I'm not primping.  I'm stalling.  There's a difference.  Just because I'm going to cooperate doesn't mean I'm easy._

**_  Sands would disagree,_** the voice said slyly.

_   Sands would disagree purely on principle._  She took one last deep breath, then left her bedroom.  Reaching the top of the stairs, she took another deep breath before going downstairs.

   _I can do this.  Once I remember that dealing with these people is just like dealing with a cartel, I'll be fine.  Just like riding a bike – you never forget how to do it.  I can do this.  I **have** done this._  Before she realized it, she reached the bottom of the stairs.  She was chagrined to realize that she didn't actually _remember_ walking down the stairs, but that was something she would deal with later.

   Another deep breath got her to the door of the dining room.  The family – who was currently out of the house – usually ate in the kitchen, saving the more impersonal dining room for more important events.  It was perfect for a conference – or negotiations.  With a brief prayer to whoever may be listening, she took one last calming breath – **_You sound like you're doing Lamaze._** – and went into the room.

   The first thing she noticed was that Inge and the unknown man were conspicuously absent.  That was perfectly fine by her.  She was in control at the moment, but she wasn't sure how long she would have remained that way if she'd been forced to deal with her old roommate's presence.  Even now, she could hear her voice murmuring against the woman.  _Shh,_ she hushed her voice, watching out of impartial eyes as Strauss stood, waiting for her to take a seat.

**_   Hypocrites._**

_   Hypocrite.  Sands is still sitting._  He was, and he was watching her out of eyes that had to be just as veiled as hers were.

   Strauss had taken the head of the table, and she understood that his position of head 'negotiator' would say he should take that seat, she still felt her hackles rise.  This was her house, not his.

**_   But you're not in control here._**  The voice was right, but that didn't soothe the sting.  Tess pushed the pain away though, taking the seat across from Sands so that they all formed a neat little triangle.  She sat, noticing the tea service on the table; the delicate china cups, the saucers, the baked goods.  _"Have you come to your senses? . . . Family is stronger than blood . . . kill him."_  She immediately poured herself a cup, relieved when she found green tea filling her cup.  Barillo had bought only the most expensive black tea.  She drank organic, green, decaffeinated tea.

   "I'm glad to see that you've . . . recovered."  Sands tucked away a smile as Tess glared at Strauss' unfortunate choice of words.

   "I'm sure you are – a raving lunatic wouldn't be of much use to you."  Tess added some honey to her cup to sweeten her tea.  "We are men of action – lies do not become us."

   "Excuse me?"

   Sands snuffed out his cigarette, impatient to be done with this.  "She wants you to cut the idle chit-chat and get to the point."

**_   Look who became Mr.-Know-it-all since he slept with you._**

   _Shut up.  _"The board is set . . . the pieces are moving.  Explain what you want, Mr. Strauss."  Tess crossed her legs under the table and fixed Strauss with the no-nonsense stare she'd learned in med school.  As long as you looked professional, people would take your word at face value – that's what she'd been taught, by life, by school, and by family.  So she pretended not to care what happened either way, and waited for the man to explain himself.

   Strauss knew when he was in control of a conversation and when he wasn't, and he was pissed to find out that he was not in control of this one.  No.  The renegade agent and the lunatic woman were.  "Well, first of all," he said tightly, "let me thank you for agreeing to –"

   "I may be what many people would consider insane, but I'm not stupid.  I'm well aware of what would have happened should I have declined to 'help' you.  Just give me the facts, a detailed explanation of what you want me to do and how you expect me to do it, then get out of my house."

   Sands was a bit surprised by the vehemence in Tessa's voice.  The last time he'd heard such forcefulness from her, she was trying to convince him that he still had a soul despite the fact that he was going around sans eyes at the time.  He now wondered how much of that strength was hers and how much was an effect of her schizophrenia.  If he had to bet money, he'd say it was her – it had to take a lot of strength to keep things together.  Especially under circumstances like this.

   Tess ignored Sands, focusing on the man at the head of the table as he opened a leather portfolio and started sorting through papers and file folders.  The sooner she was rid of both men, the better.

   "Here's the intelligence we've gathered on Barillo.  He –"

   "Barillo is dead," Tess stated flatly.

   Strauss gave her a strange look.  "_Armando_ Barillo is dead.  Carlos Barillo –"

   "How many times do I have to tell you this?  There _is_ no 'Carlos' Barillo.  There is a Carlos _Velasquez_, who was indeed Armando Barillo's nephew, but who is of no relation to me other than the fact that it was decided that we were family."

   "If that's true, this is the first I've heard of it."

   **_If it's true?_**  Tessa's voice went up in arms over that.  **_The bastard.  Who does he think he is?_**

_   The man with all the information, that's who._  Tess looked at Sands, then back at Strauss.  "I'm sorry.  I thought I had mentioned that.  I must have been mistaken.  Your intelligence is wrong."

   Strauss had caught the look that Tess had sent Sands, but he wasn't going to comment on it.  He'd pass the incident along to Director Colton and hope that he'd reprimand Sands for holding back information, but it wasn't worth the fight.  He handed a file over to Tess.  "Please, let me know if any of this other information might be incorrect."

   Tess took the file and set it off to the side; she'd have time to look it over later.  "I understand how much importance you're setting on all this, Mr. Strauss, but I would appreciate it if you would stop with the details and just tell me what you're trying to accomplish.  Why did you come to me?  Why do you want me to go back?  What information is it you're trying to get me to dig up, and why do you think I have to go back to the 'loving arms' of my family to get it?"

   Sands noticed that Tessa's fingers were tapping against the table rather agitatedly.  He took over the conversation as it became clear that Strauss was going to keep giving out information like a fisherman playing with 'the big one.'  Tess had already agreed to help; these tactics were doing nothing but annoying her and pissing him off.  "We came to you because your so called 'loving family' is looking for you.  In fact, they've started a rather desperate – if quiet – manhunt for you."

   "Why?  Why now?"

   "It's not just now.  They've been looking for you since the end of November.  It's just within the past two or three months that they've become desperate."  Sands lit up a cigarette and ignored Strauss as the other man fumed at the end of the table.  Tess was facing him now, although her fingers had picked up their pace.  He obviously made her nervous.  "I assume you're aware of the off-shore bank accounts held in your name?"  She nodded.  "And you're also aware that they hold some total that comes very close to twenty million dollars?"

   Tess smirked.  "I'm starting to believe that the 'I' in CIA does _not_ stand for 'intelligence.'"  She paused and took a sip of tea.  "The money in those accounts is well over 'twenty million dollars.'  If you multiply that amount by five you'd be closer to the actual amount – give or take a few hundred thousands pesos."  The two men were staring at her in shock.  "Unless something has happened in the past week to devastate those accounts."  Privately, she was thinking, _Well, I suppose that explains why Carlos is looking for me._

   Sands narrowed his eyes at her, but otherwise didn't challenge this declaration.   Apparently there were some accounts they weren't aware of.  He made a mental note to track down the name of her attorney and see if they could get anything from the man.  It was likely he was in Mexico, otherwise someone would have known about this.  "I assume that answers at least some of your questions."

   "Yes.  I understand that Carlos needs me alive and well if he's to get the funds he needs to not only 'expand his territory,' but to keep what territory he's got.  Loyalty isn't cheap, and IOU's only go so far."  Alive and well.  They needed her to access any of those accounts, unless she signed them over to Carlos, which she wouldn't do.  "So, I understand why _they_ want me.  Why do you want me?"

   Sands smirked.  "You mean, other than the fact that you've got a nice rack –"

   Tess stood, all pretence of humor gone.  "If you're going to resort to juvenile comments like that, I'll leave right now.  And not only will I leave, but I will willing overdose myself because I'd rather have madness for company than a chauvinist pig like you."  Tessa's voice was icily controlled, but he could see the leap of temper in her eyes.  He wondered how often they would give her away.  Madness had to find some way to display itself, and if it couldn't get out through  her mannerisms and behavior, her eyes were a probably a good indicator of what was going on inside her head.

   "Calm down, chiquita.  It was a joke.  People make those in uncomfortable situations."  Tess glared at him, but she resumed her seat.  She glanced at Strauss who seemed to have given up any hope of regaining control of the conversation.  When Sands started to talk again, she turned her attention back to him.  "We need you because we know that you cousin is trying to enlarge the territory his cartel holds sway over, and that means –"

   "That means more drugs.  Yes, I know.  I'm not going to be able to talk him out of that.  It seems to me like you'd want me to stay _out_ of the cartel's hold so they can't get the money they need."

   "We're not ready to settle for merely stunting their growth.  As long as they hold power, they will continue to grow, no matter how slowly.  They need to be completely exterminated."

   Tess shook her head.  "We'll pretend for the moment that I'm as heartless as _some_ people and that I don't have a problem with betraying people who've really never done me any wrong.  What makes you think that destroying one cartel will solve any of your problems?  Others will move in."

   "Yes, but there will be so many territory disputes and infighting that we'll have a couple years of rest before going in to wipe them out again."

   "Take down the big dog and let the rest fight over the bones, hmm?"  Tess shook her head.  "That still doesn't explain –"

   "We're going to get you inside, hoping that Carlos will at least give you some of the information about when and how they're going to increase their operation, and you'll report back to me."

   Tess felt her heart stop.  "What did you say?"

   "Agent Sand will be the one coordinating our efforts in Mexico."  Strauss finally jumped in.  "He has the most experience dealing with these people out of anyone at the Agency, and he's the least likely person to be suspected."

   _Yes.  Because everyone thinks he's been taken care of._  Tess bit back the ruthless comment about drills and missing eyes that her voice was demanding she make.  "How nice."  Even with his 'experience,' they were still getting in over their heads.  Why didn't she just try to infiltrate the mob?  They would be just as forgiving if they found out that she was double-crossing them.  "We can all be insane together, because this is what this plan is."

   "Yeah, but we get some pretty cool spy tools."

   Tess just rolled her eyes.  _I'm dead.  I'm dead and just haven't bothered to lie down yet._

**_   Ask what kind of spy tools._**

   Tess cradled her head in her hands in defeat.

*******************************************************************

**Quotes: **Charles A. Reict; Anatole France; Prince Bride; LotR

**Author's Thanks:** thanks to all who gave me feedback on my 'story extras' à it's always nice to hear that I'm good at bluffing.  : P  Still accepting people for that, so please e-mail me if you want the 'adult content' bits. 

Thanks go to: first and foremost, to my awesome team of betas – **Ashley**, **Sarah**, and **Merrie**.  You guys are a total encouragement and you make me laugh.  ^_^  Thanks also to: **dreamshadow13** (yes, I'm so glad that Inge is so readily dislikeable.  She's fun to write, but I'm not sure she'll be popping up again.  Pity that.  ^_^); **Ashley** (don't worry about it.  I love having a beta, but I'm not so spoiled as to panic without one.  You're kinda like an umbrella – I won't die if I get wet, but I'd rather be as comfortable as possible.  ^_^); **Crystal** **Symphony** (I'm amazed too.  That's what constant character development will do for a person.  Maybe I should stop that.  (j/k)  I had a blast with just letting Tess go, taking off all the restraints and letting everything show through.); grace (thank you); **Kontara** (If I can make characters that people despise, then I consider my job done well.  Go ahead and do whatever you want with Inge – I'm done for her, at least for the moment.  I might need her back though, so please don't kill her.); **Kristin** (Mmm . . . I don't see Tess as being violent, even when she's really out of control.  She will have her moments – farther down the road.  And I agree, it's nice to see her stripped of all her masks for once.); **Merrie** (what can I say?  You must be rubbing off on me.  No, the next chapter will not be perfect, but that's the way life is.  What is it that makes writing sequels so much harder than writing the first?); **The** **Flaming** **Chia** **Pet** (one of these days I will strive to write a female OC that people at least feel neutral about.  It's funny that all my others have come across as petty or busybodies.  I'll have to work on that.  She heard Inge call Sands by his first name, but I doubt she'll ever use it.  And as for crazy!Tess, she was fun to write.  I hope I get to do it again.); **Pixy** (You're right, Sands wouldn't really mind seeing Tessa being feisty, but I'm not sure that's going to come up in everyday conversation.  Just because Sands knows she's nuts doesn't mean that she's going to let that show any more than she used too.  I think she'd even try to hide it even more.  Loss of any control is loss of it all, and she can't afford that.); **C.J. Davis** (isn't that the way so many of us get involved in things?  I know I start things and then find out that I've come to enjoy it more than I thought I would, or miss it more, or hate it more, or whatever.  I know that's how my writing ended up.); **Nefarious** **Coda** (I try really hard to keep things from sounding contrived.  That would be death.  I figure that if I don't enjoy writing it, no one is really going to want to read it, which is not to say that I don't manipulate things to get them to say what I want, but what author doesn't?  And Ingrid is fun.  She reminds me of a two-year-old who's just had a favorite toy stolen from her.); **Sleeping** **Dictionary** (I suck at summaries.  If you've got any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them.  Yes, Sands pisses everyone off at one time or another, but I know I'd get over it if I could sit around and stare at him all day.  : P  Thanks for the complement to my part about Tessa's 'freak out.'  It was hard to write because I really had no idea what I was doing, but I've got a great beta who checks that stuff for me.); and **Dreamgirl21147** (thanks.)


	5. Letting Off Steam

**Author's Note:** ok, this was out a bit later than I wanted it, but it was a pain in the butt to write, and sick betas don't make for quick returns.  And with my grammar skills, I wanted  a second opinion on this before I posted.  Not to mention ff.net was BEING STUPID AND NOT LETTING ME SIGN IN SO I COULD POST!!!  Sorry.  Just a bit frustrated.  This was actually ready to go up on Wednesday, but we call all see how well that worked.  I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner.

Author's thanks at the end.

************************************************************************

"That's what you're wearing?"  

   Tess looked down, trying to figure out what was wrong with her outfit.  She was wearing a pair of low-slung drawstring sweats and a tank-top over a sports bra.  "This is what I normally wear when I'm working out."  Tess picked up her gym bag, and looked at Cora.  "Is there something _wrong_ with wearing this?"

   "Not if you're on your own, but we know how rarely that happens these days."

   Tess grimaced.  Cora had a point.  Sands had been shadowing her movements for the past three weeks.  He'd never approached her – she hadn't even talked to him since her last meeting with Strauss – but she could feel his eyes on her.  It was almost as if they'd never left her little house in Culíacan . . . other than the fact that his spooking in the background was on a whole new scale now and that his eyes burned her, of course.  Sometimes she swore he was just doing his job, but at other times she swore he was undressing her with his eyes.

   _I don't know why he would want to.  It's not like he hasn't already seen it all._  The thought almost made her sick with nerves.  She'd never been one for casual sex or one-night stands.  In fact, she'd never been one for sex at all.  Not that she'd been a virgin – her two-hour marriage had taken care of that little detail – but she wasn't exactly experienced either.  Which was why, as much as she tried to forget that night, she couldn't quite make it disappear.  But she was hoping that pure physical exhaustion would help her get it out of her head.

   "I'll be fine.  For some reason, my friend is giving me a wide berth.  He might sit around in his car and stare at me, but that's as far as things go."  Tess slung on a zippered sweatshirt, and grabbed her keys.  "I should be back in two hours or so.  If I'm not, I've got my cell phone.  Make sure that René picks up his room, and tell Carlos that I don't want him online all afternoon.  I've already told them, but they're going to need to hear it again."  With that final admonition, Tess was out the door and jogging to her car, gym bag bouncing on her back.

   _Why don't I park the car in the garage?_ she wondered as she searched for her car key. Finding it, Tess unlocked the car door and practically flung herself inside.  It was _cold_ out.  She put the key in the ignition, then reached to fasten her seatbelt.  She glanced in the rear-view mirror as she did so, and felt her heart stop for a moment.

   Sands grinned irritatingly.  "Careless chica.  What if I had been up to no good?"

   _What do you mean, 'What if?'_  "I guess I'd been in trouble then," she cautiously replied, not at all certain that she _wasn't_ in trouble now.

   Sands leaned forward in the backseat, intruding on her personal space.  Tess fought the urge to move away, but not successfully enough for him to not notice.  "Do I make you nervous?" he murmured in her ear.

   "Yes," she whispered, unsure of what he was doing.

   "Good."  He sat back.  "Well, what are you waiting for?"

   She twisted around in her seat and stared at him.  "What are you talking about?"  Hadn't she given him enough?  Why did he insist on tormenting her?

   "The gym?"  He was looking at her, his eyebrows raised expectantly.  "I thought you were eager to go get your groove on."

   For the first time she noticed that he was dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt.  He had something in mind.  "You make is sound like I'm jazzercising."

   "What?  You're not up for getting all hot and sweaty and out of breath with me?  _I've_ always compared it to a dance."  Tess blanched and reached for the handle of the door.  Sands surged forward and grabbed her wrist.  "Relax.  I'm talking about hand-to-hand combat.  I want to make sure you can take care of yourself."

   "Right."  Mentally, Tess smacked her forehead, thinking that she needed to grow a backbone where this man was concerned.  Outwardly, she rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at the hand still trapping her wrist.  "I'm going to need that to drive."

   "No you not.  You've got a girly car with an automatic transmission."

   She bristled, but managed to hide that.  In a dry voice she pointed out, "You're right.  But I can't reach the keys."  Sands let her go – she pushed the notion that he might have done so a bit regretfully out of her head – and she turned the keys in the ignition and put the car in drive, cursing Cora for being right the entire time.

*  *  *  *  *

Once they reached the gym, Sands led Tess into one of the private workout rooms in the back.  She looked around warily, noticing the mirrored wall and the padded floor.  She set her bag down, but didn't move to do anything else.

   Sands ignored her, and walked to the middle of the room.  He took a seat, stretching.  A minute passed and she still hadn't budged from the door.  "Are you going to stretch?  It's usually a good idea before pounding the crap out of someone.  Or before getting the crap pounded out of you."

   Tess made a face when she heard the dry mockery in his voice, but she took his advice.  Apparently there was no getting out of this.  And the idea of having the opportunity to 'beat the crap' out of him did hold a certain amount of appeal.

   When Tess moved further into the room and started her own stretches, Sands bit back a grin.  He'd kept his distance because he'd known that Tess was going to be jumpy around him, not to mention that her new knowledge and their last 'experience' together were probably not conducive to getting her to jump into bed with him again.  She was going to take persuasion, and the first part of that was getting on her nerves enough that she'd take the opportunity to get back at him.  He watched as she removed her jacket, revealing her lack of concealing clothes.  For some reason, he'd thought she'd wear baggier clothes – certainly, everything he'd seen her in up to this point had practically covered her from chin to toes.  He raised his eyebrows at the amount of cleavage the tank top in particular displayed, but kept his mouth shut.

   Tess sat down and removed her shoes as well, revealing the fact that she was wearing ankle braces.  Sands absorbed this fact with a bit of surprise – apparently Tess wasn't as perfect as he'd always thought.  She was nuts and she had weak ankles.  _The things you miss when you have no eyes._

   She stretched, unaware of what thoughts were running through Sands' head.  First she stretched her legs out in front of her, bending at the waist until her forehead was on her knees and her fingers met behind her feet.  Then she pressed the soles of her feet together, making sure her knees were firmly on the mats, then stretched again.  Then came the splits . . . Sands' mind was running into shady territory by now.  Then when Tess stood and bent over to touch her toes . . . .

   _Ohh . . . _Sands examined the way Tess rested her hands on the floor as her feet stayed flat and her butt pointed up in the air.  As enjoyable as the view was, he turned away before things got a little _too_ enjoyable.  While he was open to the possibility of getting laid, Sands had to remind himself what his priorities were at the moment.  He really did want to see just how extensive Tessa's fighting skills were.  That had to come first.  It'd be one less thing to worry about on the field.  Tomorrow he planned to take her down to the shooting range and see what types of weapons she knew how to handle.  _Handle.  She's got very nice hands for 'handling' things._  "Stop stalling, niña."

   "You're such a nag, Sands."  Tess stood and faced her companion.  As she'd stretched and felt her muscles start to warm, the suggestion of a fight had started to sound better and better.  Anything to rid herself of the underlying tension that'd been making her muscles scream with inaction and her head throb with a low-grade headache for the past weeks.  As much as she tried to deny it, she remembered exactly what had happened between them; she remembered how she'd felt to see him again, how the voice in her head had begged for her to take what he was offering – or for her to let him take what she had once offered – how his body had felt against hers.  It hadn't felt wrong . . . but she couldn't say that it felt _right_ either.  She'd decided that it had felt 'off' and that she wasn't happy that they'd spent the night together.  _Reputation is character minus what you've been caught doing.  _She'd willingly let him take advantage of her, willingly thrown whatever respect he might have had for her out the window . . . willingly let him manipulate her.  She wanted her respect back.  That was the only reason she was still here.__

   They faced off, neither of them saying anything.  No rules or guidelines were set; Sands apparently understood that by offering the challenge, he was leaving himself open for anything she might try.

   Tess waited patiently as he circled her, waiting for him to make the first move.  There was no sense in giving her hand away too early.  _Our patience will achieve more than our force._

   Sands finally lost his patience.  He knew Tess knew at least one way of discouraging a frontal attack, so he circled behind her, then tried to pin her arms.  Tess reacted, throwing an elbow into his solar plexus.  Sands instinctively curled around his stomach, avoiding the blow, but quickly recovering.  Tess stepped away, spinning and throwing one arm out to knock aside the punch he'd aimed at her chest.  Sands blocked her return attack, grabbing her wrist and twisting it up behind her back, taking her to the ground in the same move she'd used on him before.  "Just a little too predictable, niña.  Try again."  He let her up and Tess climbed to her feet, a sizzle of anger burning at the base of her neck.

   This time it was her turn to attack.  She feinted a right hook at his cheekbone; Sands believed her, and stumbled back when she caught him on the collarbone with her left foot.  Tess quickly regained her balance, settling back into a defensive position; she was much better at defense than she was at offense.

   The exchange of blows went on for some time, Tess losing more than she won.  Sands quickly analyzed why that was; she refused to press her advantage when she had it.  She'd rather hold him off for as long as she could.  _No_ one ever won by staying strictly on the defensive.  Every time he dumped her on her rear or pinned her to the floor, he made an irritating comment, hoping that anger would do what his challenge had failed to do; she was hiding still.  He needed to see what she was truly capable of.  Tess refused to give in though.  She tried to shrug off his comments, tried to cage the impatience that was building up inside her.  Why couldn't he just accept that she could hold her own if worst came to worst?  Why did he have to push for knowing the full scope of her skill?

   As she was distracted by these thoughts, Sands was able to knock her feet out from under her again.  She laid on her back, looking up at him, feeling her lungs hurl air in and out of her body and listening to her blood pound in her ears.  They'd been at this for nearly an hour now, and she could feel her body protesting against the amount of exertion she was demanding from it.  She was so tired, in fact, that she merely let her head drop back to the mat, aware that she was just amplifying his image of her as a weak woman.  _It shouldn't matter what he thinks anyway._

   Sands just shook his head as he stood over Tess.  She'd closed her eyes and her chest was heaving as she tried to regain her breath.  She had a coat of sweat covering her skin, a match to the perspiration breaking out of his face and along his back.  "Take a break, chiquita."  A thought struck him.  "When you no longer look like a call girl who's just earned her pay, we'll pick things back up."  Her eyes opened, anger glinting in their depths.  He smirked._  Looks like Tess doesn't want to be reminded just how thoroughly I know her._  "Not that I don't enjoy the sight – it does bring several delightful memories to life.  Of course, we do have this room to ourselves for another thirty minutes.  If you'd rather forgo the training altogether and have hot monkey sex, then –"

   Tess felt her control over her temper snap.  She lashed out with her legs, taking Sands by surprise; he toppled as she propelled herself to her feet.  Tess launched herself at him, intending to pin _him_ to the floor for once, but he was prepared and flipped her over his head.  She landed on her back, feeling her muscles protest the air was knocked from her body.  Sands was on top of her before she knew it, straddling her body but not pinning her arms to the floor.  It didn't matter, or at least it wouldn't until she could breathe again.

   "What's wrong, Teresa?  Did I hit a sore spot?"  If he wasn't careful, this was going to go farther than he'd planned for this afternoon.  "Don't you like to be reminded that you're just like every other person on the planet and just want to get laid every once in awhile?"  No answer.  "Or is it just that you don't like being reminded that I was the one you eventually let get past your straight-laced exterior?"  Still she said nothing.  Sands resumed the attack, unsure why he was pushing her so far.  It was true that the plan was to eventually get back in her pants, but . . . "Oh, I know what it is.  You don't like remembering what it's like to give all your control to someone you don't like.  You don't like remembering just how good I can make you feel.  You don't like the fact that you _liked_ being treated like a two-bit whor–"  Before he could finish the sentence, Tessa's fist caught his cheekbone.  He recoiled from the blow.

   Tess arched under him, flipping him onto his back, then straddled _his_ waist as her hands locked around his wrists.  She had to make him be quiet.  She didn't want to hear what he was saying, because it was exactly what she was afraid of.

   Sands recovered his wits quickly, looking up at Tess from his position on his back.  He tested her hold and found that she meant business; she was supporting some of her weight on her arms, a double insurance that he wouldn't get free.  Her eyes held a mixture of anger and confusion.  It wouldn't take more than a few words to make her act out on what she was feeling.  The question was, did he want her to?  _Why not?_  "I should have known you'd like being on top."

   Tess knew that if she didn't make him shut up, she was going to do something she regretted, but her hands were somewhat full at the moment.  Her mind dragged up an image of Tess kissing Sands into submission on a jet plane.  She seized onto that image and repeated the procedure without question.  She was beyond that now.  

   Her body reacted, sealing off Sands' mouth with hers.  Sands felt his own reaction as the low-level arousal that'd been plaguing him for the past hour burst into full-flower.  Apparently the key to getting Tess to submit fully to her desires was to get her so upset that she couldn't think straight.  Unfortunately, by that point, he couldn't think straight either.

   Tessa struggled as Sands rolled them with his body, taking control of the kiss.  His voice was silenced now, but hers wasn't.  She was having a hard time telling if this was a good thing, a bad thing, an imaginary thing, or a memory.  When Sands started to roughly grope her body, she realized that this wasn't a memory or imaginary, but the other two points were still undecided.  Was this good or bad?

**_   While you're trying to decide that, maybe you should, I don't know, take over again?_**

   Tess agreed.  She softened her lips enough that Sands would think she was giving in to him.  He bought it, raising his head to look at her, trying to decide just how far it was safe to go at the moment.  Taking advantage of his distraction, Tess again rolled them over, making sure to pin his hips this time instead of his hands.  Her internal battle raged on, giving her no reason to stop or to proceed.  Sands was the one that finally settled her physical indecision; one of his hands wrapped itself in her hair and brought her head down to meet his.

   This time, the kiss was softer, passionate instead of ruthlessly dominating.  As his lips teased hers, Tess felt the argument for ending things now fading before the urge to let things go further.  The sensations were still too new for her to deal with, different from the last time they'd done this.

   When Sands pushed himself up to his knees, Tess moved with him, scrambling to keep some space between their bodies, but refusing to give up their lip-lock.  Sands took what he could get at the moment, sure that he could persuade her to eventually get naked with him.  He had to bite back a moan as one of her hands slid into his hair, playing with the sweat dampened strands with fingers made gentle by uncertainty.  God, this woman was so arousing.  One moment she was fully in command of herself, the next she was as hesitant as a schoolgirl.  Part of him cried out to educate that timid side of her, part said that he was taking advantage of her sexual innocence, and part of him said he really didn't give a damn.  She was a grown woman – she could take care of herself.

**_   Yes, other than the fact that her own mind betrays her sometimes.  How can you even be sure of which part of her you've aroused?  Maybe it's Tess, but maybe it's crazy!Tess._**  Sands deepened the kiss, trying to ignore his conscience.  He'd lived most of his life without it – he didn't need it butting in now.

   Tess moaned as Sands' tongue confidently thrust into her mouth.  This still didn't feel quite right, but it felt _good_, and she'd so rarely felt good_._  If Sands was a drug, then she was well on her way to addiction, and if there was one thing she'd learned growing up in a drug family, it was how well people could be controlled through their additions . . . .

   Sands groaned as Tess pulled free, but he didn't fight her.  It was true that he could probably overpower any doubts that might be running through her mind, but that'd just make things harder for him the next time around.  Tess got to her feet, unpleasantly surprised to find that her knees were a bit shaky.  Nonetheless, she backed away from Sands, slowly shaking her head.  She wouldn't allow herself to be controlled.  Not like this and not by this man.

   "Running, conejo?"

   "Of the 36 ways of avoiding disaster, running away is always best."  Still keeping her eyes trained on the man who was upsetting her, Tess picked up her shoes, jacket, and bag, and left the room before he could say anything else.

    He let her go.  He'd seen the confused and accusing look in her eyes – hardly a look that inspired him to press her for more.  She was skittish and she didn't trust him . . . but she was vulnerable when it came to him.  As nice as that was, it disturbed him that he was somewhat vulnerable to her as well.  It was a good thing that Tess had left when she had, he had to do some thinking about exactly what he wanted from her and how to best do that.

   Groaning, he got up from the floor, ignoring his knees as they let out quiet protests.  He slipped on his own shoes and left the private room, not at all surprised to find that Tess was nowhere in sight.  Not that it mattered at the moment, but she was going to have to get used to working under his command.

*  *  *  *  *

Tess had retreated to the ladies' locker room.  In her state, it would be a mistake to get behind the wheel of a car.  With a single-mindedness that was born of confusion and low-level panic, she went into one of the curtained dressing rooms and sat down on the bench, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on them.

   Quietly, she tried to catch her breath.  That had been too close.  It was one thing to make a mistake once; it was another thing entirely to make it again.  But no matter how hard she tried to clear her mind, she could still feel the texture of Sands' lips against hers, the heat of his hands.  She realized she was shaking.  With effort, she stilled her body.  _Withdrawal_, she thought dazedly.  Then, realizing what she'd thought, she tensed.  _No.  He's not that important.  If I was going to go through withdrawal, it would have been last year after I'd been around him for months._

**_   The only second chance we get is to make the same mistake twice._**

_   I haven't made that mistake yet._

**_   Yes, you have._**

_   How?_

**_   You left before you knew how to deal with the feelings and sensations._**

_   So I should have stayed and . . . and. . . ._

_   **No.**_

_   Then I was right to leave?_

**_   No._**

   Fed up, Tess thought harshly, _Then__ just what is it that I should have done?_

**_   It is not possible to fight beyond your strength even if you strive. _**

   She recognized the quote from Homer.  _Just what are you suggesting?_  She had the feeling that she wasn't going to like it.

   **_I'm suggesting that if you don't want to turn into an unthinking pile of goo every time Sands touches you, you need to learn how to cope with the feelings he causes._**

_   The only way to do that is to experience them, and there's only one way **to**__experience them._  The voice was silent, offering no counsel.  She knew what that meant.  _No.  No, I don't think that's a good idea at all.  You felt that.  It was different than the last time.  If every time I . . . become intimate with someone is going to be different, then this is a pointless exercise._

**_   It's not like I want you to go out and sleep with every man you meet.  Just the one that presents the worst threat.  Once you know what to expect from him and from your body, then you'll be fine._**

_   And if I **do**__get addicted?  The hormones released during and after sex can be very habit forming._

**_   Don't worry.  I'll handle that part._**  That didn't comfort her.  **_Look.  He's going to keep pressing his advantage every chance he gets.  What is it that Sun Tzu said?_**

_   Find your enemy's weakness and exploit it._  Tess gave the whole cockamamie scheme some thought.  _So, what you're suggesting, is that I shore up that particular weakness before he can get a good foothold._

**_   It's better than falling into bed with him against your better judgment.  At least if it's your choice and you know why you're doing it, then it shouldn't be that bad._**  Irreverently, it added, **_Besides_****_, he's got a good body._**__

_   Shut up._  Tess realized her cell phone was ringing and that it probably had been for some time.  She pulled the phone out of her bag and answered it.  "Hello?"  

   "Aunt Tess, Amy wants to know if I can spend the night at her house."

   Tess smiled at the plaintive tone in Alma's voice, before the voice in her head butted into the conversation.  **_Sands would love to spend the night with you._**__

_   Give it up!  It's not going to happen._  "Isn't tonight a school night, Alma?"

    **_You mean it won't happen tonight._**

"No, Tía.  We have tomorrow off.  It's parent-teacher conferences."

    _It won't happen **ever**._  "Ok.  Then, is your homework done?"

**_   Sooner or later, one of us is going to wear you down._**

   "Yes, Tía."

   Tess put her importunate voice on hold as she considered Alma's request.  "Have you already asked Mrs. Milner?"

   "Yes."

   "All right, then it's fine with me."  Over the squeals and the excited chatter that told Tess that Amy was at Alma's elbow, Tess loudly said, "But I want you to make sure your room is picked up before you go, or I'll come over and get you."

   "Yo prometo, tía.  Adios!" 

****When she heard the irritating buzz of a dial tone, Tess hung up, resting her head against the wall of the small changing room.  Taking a deep breath, she realized that the voice had quieted for the moment, and that her body – while sore – was once more under her control.

   Being very careful to remain focused only on leaving the gym, Tess left the dressing room.  She avoided meeting anyone's eyes as she exited the building.  As long as she didn't get distracted from keeping her mind blank, she could keep her voice under control – or at least unaware of what else was going on around her.  And it worked . . . until she got to her car.

   If she had been fully in her own little world, she probably wouldn't have noticed the small note tucked under her windshield wiper, but Tess had learned long ago that being in 'your own little world' was just as dangerous as letting her voice run wild through her mind.  So, since she hadn't closed herself off from the surrounding world, she instinctively reached out and took the note from her windshield, holding it in one hand as she unlocked her car and got back inside.

   **_You didn't check the backseat first._**

_   I didn't need to.  Sands got what he wanted . . . for today._  Setting her bag on the passenger's seat, Tess opened the note.

_Niña,_

_      be at the shooting range on __Willow Street__ at __3:30__ tomorrow afternoon.  Don't make me come and get you._

Tess rested her head on the steering wheel in defeat.  _But I don't **like** guns._

************************************************************************

**Quotes: **Michael Iapoce; Edmund Burke; State and Main; Homer, Sun Tzu, The Art of War.

**Author's Thanks:**  apparently ff.net is backlogged on review alerts and such things, so I am _very_ sorry if I skip anyone this time around.  I would thank you, if I knew who you were.  Hopefully, it _is_ showing me all my reviews, and I'm catching all of you.  If not, I'll be sure to thank you next chapter.

So, with that in mind, thanks go to: **C.J. Davis** (I liked chapter four.  It was definitely fun to have the 'big important negotiator' get the conversation ripped from his hands, and in doing so, I hope that I managed to build a bit of a sense of understanding between Tess and Sands.); **Dreamgirl21147** (I'm sorry this one took a bit longer.  I hope you haven't gone into withdrawal or something.  : P ); **Kontara** (I don't want to know what sort of plan involves confetti and lemon juice, but it sounds absolutely diabolical.  ^_^  Thanks for catching those two quote mistakes for me – I accidentally forgot to switch cards when I moved on to the next chapter, so I wasn't really sure what went where.); **The** **Flaming** **Chia** **Pet** (thanks for the quotes!); **Sleeping** **Dictionary** (Yes, I hope to get to Carlos in the chapter after next.  With any luck, the story won't run away from me.); **Pixy** (yes!  Secret Window!  It'll be out in nine days!  And it's rated PG-13.  Was there enough Sheldon goodness for you in this chapter?); **Dreamshadow13** (I tried to update soon, I really did.  Things were against me though.  I hope this makes up for the wait.); **Adrejon** (Yeah, there's a scrap of a conscience left, and it annoys the heck out of him.  ^_^  I can't wait to see how it'll effect what he does.); **Merrie** (Yeah, I thought I might be ignoring that part of her life a bit much, and seeing as how it's going to be a major part of the story, I thought I needed to dip back into that.  And yes, this sequel at least is harder than the original, and yes, I have contemplated giving up, but I do value my life, so I won't.); **nimwen** (gotta love tension.  Really.  It's so much fun.  As for 'the ultimate sacrifice', I have some idea of what that will be, but I'm still working on it.); and **grace** (yeah, humor is definitely a good thing, especially after really emotional chapters.  I'm glad you enjoyed the dream sequence – it was my favorite part to write.)


	6. Starting Mission Impossible

**Author's Note:**  Fine.  Because I'm so guilty about taking so long to post the last chapter, here's this one early.  This chapter is one of those that had certain content edited out, but I'll send it to those on my list.  Next chapter might take a bit longer to get out because that's when we're really going to get into the plot, and I want to make sure that's written well.

Author thanks at the end.

****************************************************************************

****

**_Just do it._**

_   You do it._

_   **I would, if you would loosen up.**_

   Tess paced back and forth in her expensive hotel room in San Antonio.  Even now she found it hard to believe that she was here.  The months since November had wizzed by, almost faster than she could believe.  She'd gotten here 24 hours before, and had had just enough time to check in, get some sleep, and worry herself to death.

   Tomorrow she was supposed to go down to the bank and make a rather large withdrawal from the bank from one of those offshore accounts that were in her name. That would tip Keel – or someone like him – off to her whereabouts, and after that, things would hopefully go according to Sands' master plan.

   Sands.  Again, it came down to Sands.  It always seemed to come down to him, it seemed.  The man was immovable.  Which wasn't to say that he couldn't plan for contingencies – she'd heard multiple ones over the weeks, and those were just the ones he wanted to share.  What scared her was what would happen if _she_ didn't fit into his plans.  Not that she wasn't used to that – she could take care of herself if push came to shove.

   **_That's not what we were worrying about._**  No.  What they'd been worrying about was her continued . . . sensitivity to Sands' presence.  The man had become a hundred times more unnerving since regaining his sight and since they'd . . . .  **_Had sex?_**

_   Yeah.  That._  Tessa's pacing redoubled, taking her all around the rather large suite at the top of the San Antonio Hyatt hotel.  Sands was a floor below her for tonight.  Tomorrow morning he was checking out and she was on her own . . .so to speak.  He'd be ghosting around in the background somewhere, but she was going to be the one that everyone looked at.  She was the fulcrum that all these plans rested on, and she couldn't even make up her own mind about descending a staircase.

   **_You could invite him up here._**

   _And do what?_

_   **You know what.  Don't get cute with me.  Save that for 'Sheldon.'**_

_   Who's 'Sheldon'?_  Tess even did the air quotes that she felt her voice had used.

**   _Sands, you idiot.  Weren't you paying attention when Inge called him by name?_**

_   No._  Tess turned and went to the large windows that led out to the deck outside.  There was no way she was going to actually set a single foot outside, but the view was pretty, if reminiscent of Rapunzel looking out over the forests around her solitary tower.  Returning to her previous line of conversation, she commented, _Besides__.  Sands bugged the room before I got here.  There's no way anything is going to happen without **someone** knowing about it, and I'm not an exhibitionist._

**_   I am._**

_   Good for you.  It's my body, not yours._

**_   Yes.  And your body might end up getting us in a lot of trouble if you can't even keep from blushing uncontrollably every time he looks at you sideways.  What happens if you're on the job and catch sight of him?  It wouldn't be pretty, let me assure you._**

Tess was quickly growing tired of this debate.  It was all she'd heard for the past month and a half, practically.  Whether to grab the bull by the horns, as it were, or to let the status quo keep playing out for as long as she could maintain even the thinnest veneer of a professional.  As much as she didn't want to admit it – and would _never_ admit it out loud – being . . . intimate with Sands again did have it's own amount of appeal.  Of course, it also had a downside – like him losing _all_ respect for her, and her losing all respect of herself – but the circular and repetitive conversations were nearly enough to make her scream in frustration.

   It was a matter of time now.  The only point up for debate was whether she was going to let any sort of sexual relationship between them be her choice.  If she didn't decide soon, _someone_ was going to take advantage of her indecision.  Either Sands or the voice, and neither choice was appealing.  So where did that leave her?

   **_It leaves you alone in you penthouse suite.  Just leave the room, take the elevator down a floor, knock on Sands' door, then jump his bones.  This isn't brain surgery, Teresa._**__

_   No, but it does have rather far-reaching consequences._  In the face of her weakening protests, Tess found herself crossing the room, moving from the windows to the door.

   **_Like what?_**  Her voice was very skeptical, as if it knew that Tess was holding a very weak hand.

   Which she was.

   _Well. . . ._

**_   Don't play the pregnancy card, because we both know you've taken care of that little inconvenience.  Don't try the loss of respect one, because he really didn't respect you much in the first place, so you've nothing to loose.  Don't tell me that you're afraid of him, because I know you're not.  If you were, you wouldn't be here, and you wouldn't be wasting time arguing with me.  The simple truth of the matter is you _want _ to__ go see him, but you don't want him to think that you do.  Well, tough.  Besides, that's the one reason he wouldn't expect you to visit for, so you might as well use that to your advantage._**

   Tess paused with her hand on the doorknob to the room.  _Why is this a good idea again?_

**_   Think of it as an inoculation.  He's a particularly nasty bug that you will continue to catch until you become immune to him.  To his voice, his eyes, his touch . . . his body.  You _must_ be able to think clearly when the family comes calling; otherwise, they'll chew you up and spit you out, and neither of us wants to see that happen._**  The voice could feel Tessa finally weakening, so it held back its comment that Tess wanted to sleep with Sands again.  It'd only throw her back into turmoil, and this inaction was wearing on all parts of Tess equally.  **_It's for the best._**

   There was almost a hint of kindness to the voice that Tess didn't necessarily trust; she appreciated it, but she wasn't sure how genuine it was.  How much of it was for her – Tessa's – wellbeing, and how much was for the voice's own pleasure?  _Pleasure . . . ._

   Hesitantly, Tess opened the door to her room, making sure to grab a key on her way out the door.  She slowly walked down the hallway, passing by the elevator in favor of the stairs.  There'd be less people on the stairs.

   Before she knew it, she was on Sands' floor.  Counting her steps in an effort to calm herself, she made her way to Sands' room, stopping outside of it and tracing the numbers on the door.  1013.  The number seemed familiar for some reason, but she couldn't think why.  Se looked up and down the hallway – it was completely empty.  Totally silent.  Glancing at her watch, she saw it was past midnight.  _What am I doing?  I can't do this._  She started to back away . . . but her feet weren't responding.  _No.  I've changed my mind.****_

**_   Grow up._**  Almost as if she were in a dream, Tess watched her right hand rise to knock softly on the door.  As soon as she heard the sound of her knuckles meeting wood, her paralysis shattered, leaving her uncertain and strangely excited.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Sands was a light sleeper.  It paid off to be able to sleep with one eye open in his line of work.  So when the timid knock came on his door, his eyes slowly opened as his mind immediately jumped to analyzing his surroundings.

   He was alone and the room was semi-dark, the only light being provided by the half-open door to the bathroom.  He was lying on top of the bed, dressed just in a pair of sweats.  Winter in San Antonio wasn't cold . . . but it wasn't exactly warm either.

   For a moment he wasn't even certain if he'd been wakened by anything more than a dream.  The room was silent, nothing was disturbed, and he couldn't even hear the sound of someone else breathing.  But just as he was about to dismiss the sound of a knock as a figment of his imagination, it came again.  Just as quiet, just as timid, just as polite as it'd been the first time.  Whoever was out there obviously wanted his attention, but didn't want to intrude.

   Squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, Sands really hoped that it wasn't that red-head from the bar earlier that night.  He still didn't know why he hadn't just ordered room service, but he hadn't.  And while the petite woman had been pleasant enough to look at – and had been an excellent person to flirt with – he hadn't been nearly interested enough in her to invite her up, even though it'd been clear that she would have jumped at the opportunity.  He looked at the bedside clock – 1:27 am.  If that was her, she was going to be rudely awakened.  He had other things to worry about tomorrow, more than how to tumble a sleepy-eyed woman out of his bed.

   _-Knock, knock, knock-_   Groaning, Sands got out of bed, stretched, picked up his handgun, and walked to the door.  Completely soundless in his bare feet, he paused to look out the peephole at who was bothering him at this time in the morning.  To his great surprise, it was Tessa.  She was standing just over the threshold of the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself, and her head turned to look up and down the empty corridor.  He'd checked in on her several times during the day, so had seen what she'd been wearing.  She was dressed the same now as she had been then.

   He rolled his eyes and shook his head, briefly considering going back to bed.  But he'd seen just how close to the edge of giving up his partner in crime was.  It wouldn't take much to make her turn tail and run back to New York.  And whether he liked it or not, he did need her to make this all work.  He just wasn't looking forward to being 'comforting.'

   Tess jumped in surprise when the door to Sands' room flew open.  She barely contained a squeak of fright, instead using that fear to freeze her muscles before she took off down the hallway.  Now that Sands had answered the door, she couldn't just make a lame excuse and leave.  For better or worse, she'd made her decision.

   Sands wasn't sure what she was thinking as he looked into Tessa's completely guileless face.  Her eyes were enormous, shockingly blue in a face made pale with tension.  He fully expected her to start trembling or break into tears at any minute . . . but she didn't.  She just stood where she was, balanced like a doe ready to run for cover, and looked at him.  Thrown a little off balance himself, Sands asked, "Can I help you?"

   "I . . . umm . . . I couldn't sleep."  _That was brilliant._  Sands rolled his eyes, but he moved out of the doorway, motioning for her to come in.  Hesitantly, she did, trying to relax knotted muscles as Sands closed the door behind her, and the light from the hallway was cut off, leaving them in a murky twilight inside the room.

   Sands noticed the stiff set of her shoulders.  Apparently she was more upset about the imminent reunion with her family than he'd thought.  "Nervous?"

Nodding absentmindedly, Tess thought, _You__ have no idea._  In her state of mind, Tess missed the cautious concern in Sands' voice.  All her focus was being channeled into the discipline not to bolt.  If this was how just being near the man made her feel, then perhaps the voice was right.  How could anyone function like this?

   She turned just in time to see Sands reach for a light-switch.  "No!  Don't!"  It was bad enough that she was here without having to see everything in graphic detail.  The dark made things appear more dreamlike.  Even the strange look on Sands' face was easier to deal with.  "I . . . I umm . . . it's dark.  I wouldn't want the light to hurt your eyes."

   That sounded reasonable, but Sands could hear another motive in her voice.  A motive that sounded rather closely related to desire, except jumpier.  He leaned back against the door, and waited for Tess to make the next move.  She'd come to him for something; let her be the one to make the opening gambit.  And in the meantime, he'd like to see her face a bit more clearly.

   Tess leaped forward when Sands turned on the lights to the room.  Grabbing his wrist in one hand, she flipped the lights back off, blinking to rid her eyes of the spots dancing in front of them.  "Please . . ."

   "I'm used to seeing the people I'm talking to, niña.  And that usually requires light."  Instinctively, Sands flexed his wrist under Tessa's hand, testing her grip.  It was firm, but in no way unrelenting.  He could free himself if he wished . . . but at the moment he decided that he liked having Tess this close to him.  In fact, he was close enough to see the trace of shame that flitted over her face, right before she tried to move away, moving to turn on the lights for herself.  For him.

   Rolling his eyes again, Sands pulled Tess out of the small hallway into the slightly larger sitting area.  He roughly sat her on the couch while he sat directly across from her on the coffee table.  For a moment silence was once again allowed to reign heavily while Sands examined Tessa's down-turned face, trying to figure out exactly why she'd come to him.

   When the silence had gone on long enough to become exponentially uncomfortable, Tess finally looked up from her study of the rather uninteresting carpet.  She'd come this far, she couldn't turn back now without a complete loss of face.  And Sands was making it clear that things were up to her.  But that was what she'd wanted, wasn't it?

   Biting her lip, she noticed that her hand was still holding on to his wrist.  The fact that he hadn't pulled free both confused and comforted her at the same time.  She was well aware that he didn't like being touched, so the knowledge that he hadn't pulled free was somewhat reassuring.  Maybe things would work after all.

   Sands watched as Tess wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.  When he added that to the way that her eyes were slowly drifting up his arm to his torso, he felt the first buzz of arousal at the base of his neck.  When her eyes finally met his – albeit briefly – that seed of desire burst into full bloom.  The look in Tessa's eyes was that of a woman who'd sought out a man with a certain outcome in mind.  The hint of fear in her eyes only amplified the confidence she'd shown in coming here.

   Tess felt shivers move down her spine at the sudden heat that flared in Sands' eyes.  _Sleeping lions._  The thought was disjointed, completely at odds from the way her eyes were roving over his bare chest.  The last time she'd been in any position to do this, she'd been too focused on surviving the ordeal to take in the landscape.  But now . . . now she was very aware of the color of his skin, of the way that skin stretched over muscle and bone, of the way the hair on his forearms was standing because of the slight chill in the room, and of his several tattoos.  There was one on his upper left arm, near the shoulder, one on his left forearm, and another – smaller – one over his heart.  She vaguely remembered seeing them when she'd given him that sponge bath over a year ago, but then – as a few weeks ago – she'd had other things on her mind.

   As much as Sands didn't mind the admiration in Tessa's eyes, he was getting a bit bored with just sitting here and letting her look her fill.  He reached for her to pull her forward, but she balked.  "Relax, conejo.  I – "

   She shook her head, interrupting him.  "No.  Not tonight."  _Perhaps never._  This thought she kept to herself.  Sands would be more cooperative if he thought he would get his way later on.

   Sands hadn't missed the flash of fear that'd accompanied her statement.  He'd been wrong.  She wasn't scared of confronting her family . . . she was scared about being alone with him.  But she was here.  And she was taking the initiative.  He wasn't adverse to taking a backseat . . . this time.  He would get her back, though.  Even if he had to tie her to a sturdy piece of furniture.  A mental image accompanied that thought, and it was rather . . . inspiring.

   Tess didn't know where to go from here.  That is, she _knew_, but she wasn't sure about it.  _Help?_

_   **Oh my god.  Don't tell me you need help with **_**this._  You're a healthy, red-blooded woman of Latino descent.  Are you honestly telling me that you can't figure this out on your own?_**   The voice was almost breathless, sounding ever so much more aroused than Tess felt.  It also sounded irritated by the intrusion.**_  Just follow your instincts.  The biological urge to reproduce and all that rot.  And if that doesn't work, ask _him_ for help._**  With that advice, it was like a door slammed somewhere in Tessa's mind.  Not a wooden door, but a glass one.  Enough to keep her out, but not enough to keep the voice from observing the proceedings.

   Tess looked up, both from her internal debate and her intense study of Sands' body.  She swallowed hard before looking Sands in the face, uncertain of what she would find there.  What she found was that she was being subjected to an equally powerful stare and the sneaking suspicion that Sands knew _exactly_ what her problem was.  _No point in hiding it, then, I suppose._  Tessa wet her lips again, before whispering, "I don't know what I'm doing." 

   The admission was almost enough to make Sands shove Tessa out the door.  Almost enough for him to end things here and now and tell her to go back to her room and get some sleep.  _Almost._  It was the darker side of him that clamped down on the whispered admission and held onto it.  She was still so innocent.  Still so pure.  So open to being made completely his.  And then his common sense broke in on that daydream and more realistically pointed out that this was a good opportunity to win some of her trust.  Not to make her his to keep, but his to manipulate and eventually abandon.  That was his purpose.  That was his ultimate goal – beyond leaving Mexico with his body fully intact.

   He ignored the small part of him that found his tactics despicable, and focused instead on maintaining a cool head for the time being.  The part of him that screamed against using Tess was strangled until its cry was nothing more than a desire to be gentle enough with Tess that she wouldn't get scared.  He was already physically ready to take things farther . . . but Tess was going to take persuasion.  And he looked forward to it, in a masochistic sort of way.

   "What do you want to do?"

   Tess listened to that question with a sense of disbelief.  She didn't _know_.  That was the problem.  _Okay.  Calm down.  Think.  What's something you enjoyed the . . . the last time?_  A quiet answer rang inside of her; she'd liked kissing.

   The woman across from him didn't answer, but her eyes did lock onto his lips for more than a moment, before rising to meet his gaze again.  _Well, that seemed apparent enough._  Moving slowly, doing his best not to startle Tess, Sands moved to sit beside her on the couch.  Tess swallowed hard when she found herself so much closer to Sands, but the way her heart was speeding up was . . . it felt good.  She shivered, suddenly cold and the need to be warm was more than she could stand.

   Sands watched as Tess folded one leg under her to make herself taller on the couch, before she leaned in and kissed his jaw.  For a moment her newfound incentive wavered, torn between the desire to conquer new territory – the spot right behind his ear – and the need to reacquaint herself with familiar territory – his mouth.  The unknown proved to be too much of a daunting choice, though.  Slowly, Tessa's mouth ghosted along Sands' jaw until she'd reached his lips.  She pulled away for a moment to study his face, her own countenance deadly serious, before closing the inches separating them.

   She almost hummed in satisfaction when Sands met her but didn't overwhelm her.  Last time he'd dominated her, this time he was . . . letting her play.  Explore.  Accustom herself to him; to his body, to the way he smelled, to the way he tasted.

   It was hard for Sands to sit still and keep his hands to himself until she was ready.  Tess was being so torturously slow that he was tempted to speed things up.  If he could convince her to sleep with him against her better judgment, then surely it'd be even easier to get her into bed when she was here of her own free will.  But the fear that'd been in her eyes came back to his mind, and he resisted the urge to strip her shirt from her and press her back against the couch cushions.  She hadn't been scared the last time.

   Tess was trying to catalogue and analyze everything she felt as she felt it, but was failing miserably.  The entire point of this had been to help get used to the way he made her felt, but how could she when she couldn't process the sensations running through her body?  Maybe she just needed to change their contact.

   Slowly, carefully, Tess parted her lips.  Hesitantly, she ran the tip of her tongue over his lips, asking permission for more, for deeper contact.  Sands readily opened, fighting to keep from taking over the kiss.  The moment his tongue met hers, she was lost.  Any thought of analyzing was lost.  All that was left was desire, uncertainty, and a trace of fear.  Fear she wanted to lose.

   Sands noticed when Tessa's kiss changed from tentative to distressed.  And while it was nice, he wondered at the change.  He pulled away from Tess, watching her face as her eyes opened.  They were clouded with desire, but the fear that'd made him hesitate before was still there.  What had he gotten himself into?  There was still time to get her to leave.  It would be painful . . . .

   "Please. . . ."  Tessa's whisper jolted Sands back to reality.  There was no way in hell he was going to let her go.  She was simply too sexy for her own good at the moment.  It was rare to find a woman that was genuinely uncertain instead of coy . . . or at least, it was something he'd rarely found.  The chance to be the one to make that fear go away was too good to pass up.

   Tessa's eyes widened as the wrist she was still holding, twisted to grab _her_ wrist.  "Relax, Tessa.  I'm not going to hurt you.  You know that."  She did know that.  He wasn't . . . he didn't . . . there wasn't an aura of suppressed violence around him at the moment.  "Do you want to finish what you started?"  Yes.  She did.  

   When she nodded, Sands used his hold on her arm to pull her closer to him, before changing his mind and pulling her to her feet after him.  He pulled her into the bedroom, stopping just inside the door and pulling her against his body.  With determination, he started kissing her, starting at her neck, and moving up.  Tessa's eyes drifted closed as he kissed neck, ear, throat, chin, cheekbones, temple, nose, lips.  Her head was rolling on her neck by the time Sands finally deepened the kiss.  Things weren't as overwhelming this time.  Perhaps she'd been right to do this after all.

   "I want to lie down on the bed with you."

   Tess nodded, giving her consent.  Her knees were starting to feel shaky, and she didn't want to collapse.  So when Sands moved towards the bed, still kissing her, still holding her head in his hands, she went with him.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Tess groaned as a buzzer went off by her head.  She rolled and buried her head in her pillow, taken aback when her nose picked up an unfamiliar scent.  Confused, she rolled over, looking around the room with eyes that were nothing more than slits in her face.  It was bright in here – the curtains were wide open.

   For a moment she was confused when she realized this wasn't her room, but almost immediately she remembered the events of the previous night.  Or morning.  It'd been after midnight when she'd come down here.  To see Sands.  With the express purpose of getting laid.

**_   Yes, but for scientific reasons._**

_   Oh yes, very 'scientific.'_  Looking down, Tess saw that she was completely naked.  Wrapping the sheet around her, she slammed the alarm clock to turn it off.  It was getting perilously close to 8:00 am.  If she didn't get up now, she wouldn't be able to for another hour, and housekeeping made their rounds at 9:15.  She was sure Sands didn't want her here when they came around.  They couldn't have any connects between them . . . at least not visible ones.

   Climbing out of the bed, Tess cautiously poked her head into the small bathroom – it was empty.  As was the rest of the hotel room.  Sands was gone, his bags nowhere to be seen, any trace of him having been here gone, except for Tess herself.

   Looking around the room, Tess found her clothes, stacked in a sloppy pile on a nearby chair.  She abandoned the sheet and got dressed, not bothering to put on her shoes.  She needed to get out.  She needed to get to her _own_ room, take a shower or a very long bath, and get dressed in some sort of outfit that would make her look like some sort of socialite with old money.  Not the Paris Hilton and Brittney Spears look that was so popular, but more along the lines of . . . someone on their way to a charity auction for orphans in Botswana or something.

   Not to mention there were no memories of Sands lying in wait for her in her own room.

   Unfortunately, the previous night wasn't that easy to put out of her head.  Again, she opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator, not wanting to run into anyone who would wonder why she was looking so disheveled so early in the morning.  "Not that they wouldn't be able to figure it out," she muttered.  "I'm really not sure this is worth it."  With every step, Tess felt the muscles of her legs and some other rarely used muscles complaining that she was taking the stairs too fast.   Every step was a reminder that she'd had sex, not once, but twice, the night before.  She felt her face breaking out into embarrassed flames, but she didn't feel all that regretful or repentant.  Which was odd, if she thought about it.

   **_Why is that odd?  So you figured out you're a woman, and you're a woman who enjoys men._**  Tess could feel the voice stretch as if it'd been asleep.  **_Just don't get used to it.  I'm not against a little bit of nookie now and again, but you're dangerously close to _liking_ that man, which is not acceptable.  He's the enemy – remember that.  They're all the enemy._**

Tess shook her head as she unlocked the door to her room.  _No.  I **won't** live like that.  I don't **want** to live like that.  _

**_   It's true though.  Perhaps they're not all out to _kill_ you, but they'll all take advantage of you.  And Sands wouldn't regret it.  He'd say it's your own fault for being so trusting._**

_   One of us has to be trusting._

**_   Ok, you be naive and I'll keep us alive._**

_   I resent the fact that you think I'll get myself killed without your eye constantly on me._  She slowly undressed again, folding her dirty clothes and putting them in the cloth bag she always took with her on trips for that purpose.  Dirty and clean clothes didn't need to mix.

**_   There's worse things than death, Teresa.  You know that._**

   She did.  But wasn't something she needed to ponder as she was getting ready to let the world of organized crime in Mexico know where she was.  So she flippantly answered, _Yeah__, there are.  All of which I'll experience if I'm late getting to the bank.  Sands will have my hide._

**   _Why not?  He's had everything else._**

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Tess stood in front of the mirror, making last moment adjustments to her hair and clothing.  Appearance was everything.  Years ago, she'd perfected how to look tidy and successful without drawing anyone's eyes to her.  It'd been an essential part of her existence at the cartel compound.  If a single hair was out of place, she would be punished, and the longer she went without attracting anyone's attention, the better.  But that wasn't the look she was striving for today.  Today she needed to appear successful, confident, and in charge.  It wasn't everyday someone withdrew hundreds of thousands of dollars, and not everyone would be allowed to do so . . . especially from accounts as closely guarded as the ones she was attempting to access.  Whatever bank official she ended up dealing with could not be allowed to harbor a single doubt as to who she was.  Hence, the $300 outfit she was wearing.

   It'd taken her some time to decide what she was going to wear.  Her wardrobe was mainly dresses and business suits which were perfectly acceptable for a professor at a small community college.  But that wasn't the image she wanted to project.  After searching through her closet several times and dismissing every item that was meant for cold Great Lake winters, she'd pieced together an ensemble that should convey the image she wished to project.  First, there was the long black wrap-around skirt.  There was a line of fringe down the right side, giving the illusion that the skirt really had been wrapped around her waist several times.  On top of that was a sleeveless mock turtleneck in a shade of deep, rich, turquoise blue, meant to emphasize her eyes.  She'd wanted to wear red – it was such a warm, friendly, forgiving color – but the entire point of this exercise had been to help her _look_ like a spoiled heiress or some jet-setter.  And that meant enhancing her natural features whenever she could.   Then, over the shirt, she was planning to wear a long black duster.  It was one of her favorite things to wear because she loved the way the sleeves belled out around her hands.

   To complement that, she was wearing silver bangle-bracelets and a pin of silver and turquoise that'd been worked in the shape of a turtle.  She'd decided against earrings, deciding that her hair was enough to have around her face.  If there was one thing she would say, it was she liked her hair.  She wasn't too fond of her eyes, and her face was only slightly above average – although it was plain when she compared it to what Ajedrez had looked like – but her hair was a dark ash brown, wavy, and grown a little past her shoulders.  When she fastened part of it behind her head with a silver hairclip, two strands hung down to frame her face.

   _I suppose I look presentable,_ she thought, _although my bangs could use a trim._  She smiled softly when her mind pulled up a thought from a book she'd once read – one of the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  _Something about lunatic fringe; that's what they called bangs._

   A buzzer went off in the other room.  With a deep sigh to bolster herself, Tess left the bathroom, picked up her purse and her attaché, grabbed a room key, and went downstairs.  It was time to do this.

   Whether she felt like she could do it or not.

The lobby of the hotel was busy.  There was the pre-lunch crowd that was leaving and the lunch crowd that was arriving, not to mention a bus-load of tourists who appeared to be checking out.

   Tess easily threaded her way through the crowd, staying on the fringes, skirting the potted plants.  There was a tense moment when she nearly collided with an overeager bellboy, but she did manage to get past the door man and outside to freedom without incident.  Without incident, but unsure as how to get to the bank.  She knew what bank, but not where it was.  _Taxi then,_ she thought with a silent groan.  She _hated_ taxies.  They were dirty, and their drivers were usually dirty, and they drove too fast and too recklessly . . . but she really didn't have much of a choice.  She couldn't ask for directions because she couldn't keep a map straight in her head, and she didn't want to end up walking miles to get there anyway.

   "Miss?"  Tess looked to her side and saw the doorman standing there.  The man was ancient; his face was lined with more wrinkles than she could count and his shoulders were stooped, but he had a kind smile on his face.  "Can I help you?"

   "Yes.  I need a taxi."

   The old man nodded and took her by the elbow, leading her over to a taxi that had just pulled up to the curb.  "Where are you going, miss?"

   "Winston and Harnel, the bank."

   The doorman escorted her to the door of the cab, opening it for her and lending a hand as she got in.  Then he closed the door and told the cabbie where she was going.  Before she knew it, she was on her way to the bank.

   The ride was completed in silence, something for which Tess was eternally grateful.  In her admittedly limited experience, cabbies liked to talk.  And she wasn't adroit at making small-talk at the best of times . . . of which this wasn't.  All her energy was focused on one thing at the moment – keeping perspective on everything.  Today she withdrew the money, but it wouldn't be for another two or three days at the least before anyone tracked her down.  That would be time enough to prepare for her return to Mexico.

   "I'm charging you for using my backseat as a sitting room, lady."

   Tess jumped, suddenly aware that the car wasn't moving any longer.  "I'm sorry."  Gathering her belongings, Tess got out of the cab, blinking in the harsh sunlight.  With one hand she dug her sunglasses out of her purse while turning back to the cabbie who was still waiting for his fee.  "Can you wait for me?"  The man was gruff, but she didn't want to go through the hassle of finding another cab during the lunch hour.

   "I dunno.  Can you afford to have me wait?"

   "Yes.  And there'll be a fifty dollar tip in it for you."  The cabbie nodded, turning off his engine.  "Thank you."  He grunted.  And with that, Tess went inside the building.

****************************************************************************

**Quotes: **none this chapter.  Amazing, isn't it?

**Author Thanks:** as always, firstly to my betas **Ashley**, **Merrie**, and **Sara** (DD).

Thanks also go to: **C.J. Davis** (without some weaknesses to the characters, who's going to want to read about them.  Struggle is what interests people, whether it be external or internal, and a little of both is always good.  Besides, real people do struggle with things like this, so I feel like it'd be stupid to not have people who are almost real to me to _not_ have to deal with it.); **Kontara** (I hope your roomie is not making you a basket case, although, if she is, then I guess you fit in well with some of my characters.  : P  Glad you liked the chapter, short though it was.); **Pixy** (I'm glad you seemed to like the chapter so much.  Just want to let you know that ff.net sent me your review something like 40 times.  Yeah.  That was interesting.  ^_^  And I agree about the Secret Window deal – it makes me feel less guilty about taking my sister to see it.); **kinkyfrodo** (glad to see you're still around.  I liked the analogy with the addiction too.  It just seemed to me that Tess would have seen things like that if she'd grown up in a cartel, and therefore she'd want to avoid addiction at all costs.  I'm glad you're still here.  ^_^); **Merrie** (Yes, I value my life, despite frequent requests for death – mine or other's *coughcaptainjacksparrowcough*); **nimwin** (it wasn't my fault.  The last chapter should have been posted much sooner than it was, but then ff.net was down, and then it wouldn't let anyone log in for two days.  : P  But I am glad you liked the chapter – I was a bit worried over it.); and **normal human being** (I'm not sure what a 'glomp' is, but I'm glad you're doing it to my fic.  I think.  ^_^  I can understand why reading this before my other story might leave you a bit lost, but I am glad that you're able to enjoy this one without reading the other.  That pretty much makes my day.)


	7. Money and Murder

**Author's Note:**  this one took a bit longer to write than I thought it would.  I first worked on the plot, wanting to make sure that I knew what I was doing because this is really the opener to the rest of the 'intrigue' that's going to take place, but once I was done with that, there still seemed to be something missing.  Thus, the last half of the chapter.

This didn't make it past my betas this time, simply because I finished writing it TODAY, and really wanted to get it out to you all.  So, I'm sorry if there's any mistakes I didn't catch.

Author's thanks at the end.

************************************************************************

The heels of Tessa's shoes clacked loudly against the marble floors of Winston and Harnel.  The building was prestigious, overbearing, and intimidating.  It was also cold, the air conditioning on even in the winter.  Tess wasn't a big fan of that, seeing as how she was often cold, but she had to admit that it seemed in character with the lofty ceilings and pristine white curtains that framed the large windows.

   Putting these thoughts out of her head, she walked up to one of the deck where some self-important under-financial advisor type person was busily shuffling through papers.  She took a seat, ignoring the feeling that was trying to convince her that she wasn't going to be able to pull this off.  She knew better than that.  _I just need to act as if I know more than he does and as if I'm used to having people do as I tell them without question.  I'll just pretend I'm Dr. Schroeder, and I'll be fine,_ she assured herself.  Dr. Schroeder had been the crankiest doctor at Boston Memorial while she'd been doing her internship in general rotation, able to make nurses 'hop to'  with a single glance.  The woman was a legend.  

   When several minutes went by without the man addressing her, Tess cleared her throat, lifting her brows expectantly.

    "Welcome to Winston and Harnel.  If you will wait just another moment, I'll be right with you."  Tess had to fight from rolling her eyes at the man's arrogance; biting back the comments her voice wanted to make.  In a place like this, everyone was important, and everyone was rich.  This guy was probably the third son of some millionaire, and so was therefore incapable with working with the public at all, but she was still stuck with him.

   The man finally looked up from his paperwork, a patronizing smile on his face.  "Welcome to Winston and Harnel, where our clients come first.  How may I help you today, Ms. –"

   "Barillo.  Teresa Barillo."

   "Ms. Barillo, then.  Please, how can we be of service."

   Tess noted that the man's eyes were already sliding away to other people – clearly, he'd rather be doing something other than working.  "I need to withdraw a hundred thousand dollars from one of my private accounts."  That got his attention back to her.  Quickly.

    "Excuse me?"

    "You heard me."  Tess straitened her head, managing to look down her nose at the man as if she were unimpressed with him . . . which would be the truth.  "I need to make a withdrawal of –"

    "Yes, pardon me, I just wanted to make sure I heard correctly."  The unfortunate man assumed he was dealing with one of the bank's more prestigious clientele, and so therefore immediately became ingratiating.  "Please, may I get you anything to drink before we continue?  Tea?  Coffee?  An espresso?"

    "No, I'm fine, thank you."  Tess crossed her legs, and settled herself more comfortably.  This was going to take awhile at this rate.  She certainly hoped that the cabbie was still waiting for her when she got done.  "Is it going to make a difference that the money I need to access is in offshore accounts?" she asked, wanting to speed along the process as much as she could.

   The man across from her froze in what he was doing, and just looked at her for a moment.  He swallowed, then murmured, "If you will wait here for just a moment?  I think I should get our vice president."

   Tess waited for the man to come back, and when he did, it was with a woman in an expensive business suit and alligator skin heels.  "Ms. Barillo, I'm Maria Powell, vice president of Winston and Harnel.  I understand you'd like to make a substantial withdrawal from an offshore account."  The woman held out a hand for Tess to shake, and she did so, silently sizing the other woman up.  "Please, if you'll follow me to my office, we'll get that underway for you."  She had a soft Texan accent, unlike the cabbie, whose accent had almost sounded exaggerated.  And now that she thought about it, strangely familiar.

   **_Worries for another time, Teresa.  Get your head in the game and pay attention to the nice lady.  The sooner this is done, the sooner you can turn your attention to protecting yourself from everyone who's out to use you._**

   "Thank you Ms. Powell."  Tess stood and followed the other woman to her office, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in front of a large mahogany desk.  "I didn't think vice presidents handled customer's themselves."

   The other woman smiled.  "I haven't been a VP that long.  And when someone is withdrawing as much as you are, then the bigwigs prefer that one of the many VP's handle it instead of someone like Michael."  Maria settled into her chair and logged onto her computer.  "Now, down to business.  There are some formalities to follow.  You're going to need to sign some papers, and I'm going to have to see a few pieces of identification."

   Tess dug her driver's license, passport, and birth certificate out of her briefcase, handing them over as the other woman slid several documents over the surface of the desk.

   "I see that you don't have an account with the bank.  Are you wishing to open one at this time?"

    "No.  I'm not sure how long I'll be staying in San Antonio."  _But it probably won't be as long as I would wish to stay._

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Tess had been right.  It took nearly ninety minutes just to settle her identity to everyone's satisfaction – everyone being the FCC, the treasury, and whoever else might get their noses out of joint by her 'little' withdrawal – and another forty-five after that to actually get the money transferred into an account she could easily access.

    _Not that I know what I'm going to **do** with that money,_ Tess thought as she thanked Vice-President Powell and gathered her things to leave.  _I don't really want anything to do with it.   It's nothing more than blood money, a fortune amassed by the addiction of others.  It doesn't seem right to spend it, but it doesn't seem right just to let it sit around forever either._

**_   Well, you could start by paying your cabbie._**

   Tess looked towards the street as she exited the building, momentarily blinded by the bright winter sun.  Surprised, she saw that the cab she'd come in was indeed still waiting for her.  And even more surprising, there was something familiar about the way the cabbie was leaning against the exterior of his car, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles.  _I know him from somewhere._

   **_Nice to see that you can be paranoid without my help,_** the voice said caustically.  **_Don't be ridiculous.  You don't know him.  Look at that grey hair.  Remember his accent.  You've never met this man before in your life._**

   The voice was right.  Of course it was right.  The only person she knew in San Antonio was Sands, and he'd disappeared sometime early this morning.

   **_Look at it this way – it saved you the embarrassment of another morning after._**

   "How much do I owe you?" she asked the cabbie.  _As if any 'morning after' could be more awkward than the last one.  At least this time I wasn't raving mad._

   "Two hundred, not counting the fare for the trip here."

   Tess nodded and pulled five one-hundred dollar bills out of her purse.  "Can you take me to the nearest rehab center?"

   "Rehab?"  The man's tone was disbelieving.

   "Yes.  Rehab."

   **_What are you planning, Teresa?_**

   _What better way to spend the money than to use it to help the very people – or at least the population – that it came from.  Not to mention, it would make Father furious if he were still alive.  Using ill-gotten wealth to help rehabilitate drug addicts.  It cuts down on the amount of repeat customers._

   "Whatever you want, lady.  Climb in."

   Tess climbed into the car, shaking her head a bit at the man's manners.  _God, he's bossy._

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Sands looked in his rearview mirror, checking the traffic and on his passenger.  His blissfully unaware passenger.  _I guess we should have worked on disguises as well as fighting tactics and target practice,_ he thought as he watched Tess as she looked out her window.  He'd seen a brief glint of recognition in her eyes, but it'd disappeared before she could follow her intuition to its natural conclusion.

   He'd been somewhat concerned that it'd taken so long for her to leave the bank.  It was still early on in the game, but there was no proof that her family were the only people looking for her.  Minor cartels with reputations to build or axes to grind against the Barillos could just as easily come after her.  _And la niña forgot to wear her surveillance gear.  Perhaps I need to stress that it's for her own safety as much as it is for gathering information._  Still, he'd been somewhat surprised to find himself waiting outside for her, but he'd told himself that he was only doing his job.  It wouldn't be good for his record if the mission folded before it even got started.  And that meant making sure that Tess stayed alive, at least long enough to get her over the border.

   And part of that meant finding out why she wanted to visit a rehab center.  That and he was curious.

   "Sight-seeing or checking in?"

   "Excuse me?"  Tess turned away from her window to meet the cabbie's eyes in the rearview mirror.

   "Why d'you want to check out a rehab center?"  He barely remembered not to call her chiquita, or niña, or pequeña . . . the game was still afoot, and he wasn't ready to give it away yet.

   Tess briefly wondered why the man was being so talkative now when he hadn't been earlier.  She was also struck by the strength of his accent again, but brushed it off.  "Person reasons," she murmured, looking back out the window.

   _Too easy._  "Ah.  You sure you don't want me to take you to one of those celebrity rehab joints?  They'd cater to your likes better –"

   "I'm not checking myself in."

   **_This guy is too inquisitive.  Either ignore him, or creep him out.  You know which one I'd prefer._**

   Sands smothered a grin at the defensiveness of her tone.  "My mistake, lady.  No need to get your feathers in a fuss."

   The rest of the ride was completed in silence, Sands thinking his own thoughts, and Tess trying to solve the puzzle of who her 'cabbie' reminded her of.  When they reached the rehab center, Sands pulled over.  "You want me to wait again?"

   "Yes, please."

   Tess got out of the car, looking around.  The neighborhood was rundown, but not exactly threatening.  That would happen in a few years if things didn't turn around.  That insight was all she needed to put some resolve in her spine.

   Walking into the center, she found that the front desk was deserted.  Which was what she wanted, now that she thought about it.  Anonymous donations were always fun.

   Quickly writing out a check for $95,000, she put it into an envelope she found on the desk, then wrote a quick note, letting whoever was in charge know what the money was meant for.  Then she left, not wanting to be caught by anyone.

   She almost made a clean escape.  At the last moment, someone came out of a back room.  "Can I help you?"

   "No, I was just leaving.  Thank you."  With a curt nod for the blond who was watching her curiously, Tess fled the building, more relived to get back into the cab than she'd thought possible.  At the last moment though, she turned and went back inside the building.  "Excuse me," she interrupted the desk clerk.  "I know this is an odd question, but were you raised around here?"

   "Yes ma'am.  Born and bred here in San Antonio."

   "Thank you."  This time when she left, Tess went directly to the cab and climbed in, with more than a little relief and vindication.  Relief to be able to go back to somewhere that would be relatively safe, and vindicated on two counts: she was helping the people her family took advantage of, and she'd figured out who her cabbie reminded her of.

   "Now where to, lady?"

   "Back to my hotel . . . Sands.  By the way, I like the wig."  Tessa's vindication turned into disgust as she realized just how long it'd taken her to unravel this particular puzzle.  "Was there a _point_ for disguising yourself, or is that how you get your kicks?" she asked, not really wanting an answer.

   Sands was a bit taken aback by the hostility in Tessa's voice, but he went with it.  "Think of it this way, if I've taught you a lesson, then this little trip was a success.  If I haven't, then it was a failure, no matter how much money you made off with."

   "And what exactly was I supposed to learn, oh master of disguises?"

   "Always be aware of your surroundings, listen to your instincts, and never leave your room without your surveillance equipment, or I'll be forced to tail you.  Which wouldn't be safe for either of us once we get this little operation underway."  He met her eyes in the mirror.  "Don't make me remind you again, chiquita."

   _Bite me._  Tess didn't respond, just looked back out her window.  He was right, of course.  They'd gone over the complex and shockingly minute surveillance equipment weeks ago.  She knew exactly how to wear and disguise it, just as she knew how important it was _to_ wear it.  The quicker she got the information the government was sure it needed, the sooner she'd be able to go home.

   **_You are going home._**

_   Home in __New York__.  Don't try to confuse me._  Anyway, the point was, by the time she reached Mexico, slipping on the bugged necklace and the glasses with the tiny video cameras had to be second nature.  Which meant wearing it now, even though there was no cause for it.  "I'll take care of it when I get back to my room."

   "See that you do."

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

As Tess approached the door to her hotel room, she heard the phone inside start to ring.  She briefly wondered who could be calling her.  The only people that knew she was here, were the hotel staff, Sands, and . . . .  Cursing, she looked at her watch, groaning when she saw what time it was.  _I was supposed to call home an hour ago._

   Hurriedly unlocking her door, Tess stepping into the suite, dropping purse and tote on the floor.  Jogging across the room, she picked up the phone.  "Hello?"

   "Tía!" a young voice crowed, making Tess smile.  Selena had become fascinated by the phone about a month ago, begging to be allowed to talk on it whenever she could.  She would swipe cell phones if they were left unattended, running with them, merrily pressing buttons and babbling in a mixture of English and Spanish, nearly all of it unintelligible.  "Tía!"

   "Hola, baja."  Tess talked to her youngest 'niece' for some time, alternating between English and Spanish and smiling when the girl managed to answer simple questions in both languages.  After about twenty minutes though, the girl suddenly said, "Cora wants talk to you."

   "Ok, baja.  Be good."

   "Sí, tía."  And then the phone switched hands.

   "Tess?"

   "Yes, Cora."

   There was a brief pause before the other woman said, "I tried to call you last night.  Around five this morning for us."  There wasn't any accusation in the other woman's voice, but there was concern.  

   Tess froze, the pen she'd been idly clicking falling from her hand.  Five for them would be three for her, and she remembered quite well what she'd been doing at three.

   Tess wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to say.  Part of her said that she didn't have to make any explanations to this person – she was her own woman, capable of making her own choices.  The other part of her said that Cora had every right to judge, because Tess herself wasn't sure she'd done the right thing by seeking Sands out the night before.  The easier thing, perhaps, but not necessarily the right thing.  _Best to skirt the subject then._  "Why did you need to get a hold of me that early?"

   "Marcos was had just had a nightmare about the day his parents died."

   Tess closed her eyes, in shame and regret.  _God.  I let down someone I said I'd be there for, simply because I can't control my hormones._  "Is he there?"

   "Yes.  But I need to ask what you were doing.  You're a light sleeper, except for when you've been relying on your meds to get through the day, and if you're doing that already, then I'm not sure you should be doing this."

   Tess nearly collapsed in relief.  Cora thought she'd been in some sort of drug induced comatose state.  She didn't suspect that her employer was sleeping with a man who might or might not be the enemy – the worst person to _be_ sleeping with.  At least with an enemy, you _know_ that one side or the other might kill you both for it.

    _And speaking of killing. . . ._  Tess got up from the couch and went into her bedroom, picking up the locket that contained a tiny microphone.  She'd been supposed to wear it early, but had forgotten.  "I'm fine, Cora.  I just had trouble sleeping last night, is all.  I, I um, went for a walk."  The clasp was being difficult, but Tess finally got it on, noting that her closet door was ajar.  Which was odd, because she remembered closing it quite vividly.  The latch was loose or something, so you had to press rather firmly to get the door to stay shut.  And she'd made sure that it had been, going so far as to tug on the handle to ensure that it wasn't going to pop open.

   "Look, Cora.  Can you call me back in a half an hour or so?  Or have Marcos call me?  There's something I need to deal with."

   Cora agreed, and Tess hung up the phone, looking at the closet door.  For a second she wavered between opening it the rest of the way, or leaving the room and going for backup.  She knew that Sands had set up operation in another room in the hotel.  All she had to do was ask for help.

   **_Do it from outside the room,_** her voice urged.

   Tess nodded absently, backing out of the room.  She'd started to notice that her constant sensation of being watched had elevated.  It could be paranoia . . . but it was better to be safe than – 

   Before she could even finish the thought, a cord dropped over her neck and she found herself jerked against a large body.  Before she could react, the cord pulled tight, cutting off her air supply and sending panic racing through her veins.

   She struggled, trying to get her fingers underneath the cable that was now cutting into her throat, throwing her head back to both try to do some sort of damage to the person behind her and to loosen the pressure on her windpipe.  Neither maneuver was successful.  Her head thumped against a rather solid collarbone, telling her that her attacker was taller than she was, and all she managed to do with the cord was break off several nails.  The room was going black around her, and even the sounds of her struggle were having a hard time making themselves known through the throbbing of blood in her ears.  Her lungs were screaming angrily, but there was nothing she could do about that.

   With struggles growing weaker by the moment and knees that were on the verge of collapse, Tess tried to get her attacker to release her, but nothing worked.  Even her voice was quiet, leaving Tess alone in her own head.

   _I don't' want to die alone,_ she thought irrationally, just before she was swung around by nothing more than the pressure on her throat.  Her legs collapsed and she managed one last desperate gasp before falling to the ground, senseless except for the extreme loneliness that'd overtaken her.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Sands entered his hotel room, nearly disgusted with himself.  The damn woman was getting to him.  But that was the point.  She'd been getting to him for months now, if he cared to admit it.  Which he didn't.

   Yawning, he resisted the urge to throw himself on couch and take a nap.  Last night's encounter with Tess had been nice – disturbing in a sense, but nice – but it hadn't left him with much time to sleep.  Especially since he'd needed to be setting things up before the sun rose if things were to go smoothly today.  Which they had.

   Sands didn't trust things that went off with a hitch.  Not any more.

   Rubbing at eyes burning from exhaustion, Sands went into the bedroom and turned on the small TV on his dresser.  It wasn't the one that came with the hotel room.  This one was meant for picking up the signals from the four or five cameras he'd put in Tessa's room.  The only room that didn't have one was the bathroom – he did have some decency.  Each camera operated on a separate channel, so he had to flip through them.  

   Hallway outside the room – clear.

   Entryway – clear.  

   Dining area – clear.

   Tess was in the living room, on the phone.  With a sigh, Sands reached over and turned on the special radio that was supposed to pick up signals from her bugged jewelry – silence.  "Damnit, niña.  Go put the damn necklace on."  Reaching over to the other audio device on the dresser, Sands tuned into Tessa's phone conversation.

   "I tried to call you last night.  Around five this morning for us."  The housekeeper.  Sands sat back and wondered what Tessa was going to say to that comment.

   There was a moment of silence, stretched a moment too long to be comfortable, then she said, "Why did you need to get a hold of me that early?"

   So, his little niña wasn't going to fess up to where she'd been.  Sands rolled his eyes, and decided to check the other rooms as he listened to the two women.

   They talked of mundane things, and the other rooms were empt –

   "Shit!"

   Grabbing his gun, Sands ran from his room, racing down the hall to the stairwell.

   There'd been a man in Tessa's room, garrote stretched taut between two fists.

   Bursting into the stairwell, Sands could feel seconds dying away with each impact of his feet on the risers on the stairs.  He was only three floors below Tessa's room, but he suddenly knew he wasn't going to make it in time.  He wasn't going to get there before she died.  He was going to fail on the first assignment he'd gotten in a year, and it was all – 

   He threw open the door leading from the stairwell with such force that it slammed into the wall and rebounded back at him, but he was moving so fast that it didn't even clip him.  Three steps and he was at the door to Tessa's room.  He didn't bother to test whether it was locked or not, simply shooting the lock off for time's sake.  The door flew open and Sands entered the apartment.  Sounds of a weak struggle came from the hallway that lead to the bedroom.

   Not bother to be amazed by the fact he'd gotten here before the man could kill Tess, Sands entered the hallway with gun raised. 

   Attacker and victim were facing away from him, but not for long.  The man behind Tess sung around, dragging the woman with him, surprise on his face.  Sands didn't leave him enough time to change his expression.  Seeing that Tess was shorter than the man by at least a foot, he simply aimed and fired, a small hole appearing in the man's forehead.  Both fell to the floor, silently.

   "Damn it all."  Had he still been too late?  For a moment he'd been foolish enough to believe that he'd gotten here in time to ensure Tess lived through their stupidity, but apparently not –

   Tessa's legs moved weakly, one hand twitching as if trying to move towards her throat.  A strangled gasping sound emerged from her, weak but audible.  With more relief than he cared to examine, Sands pulled his Swiss Army knife from his back pocket, swiftly moving towards the form of the prostrate woman.

   The cord was tied tightly around Tessa's neck, the flesh around it raised and inflamed and bleeding in spots . . . but it was plastic.  Not bothering to try to avoid cutting her, Sands slit the cable, pulling Tess into a sitting position.  He knew she had no idea of what was going on around her, but she didn't fight him.  Most likely because she had nothing left to fight him with.

   Unlike in movies, she didn't gasp and immediately recover.  Her eyes were barely open, no more than slits and her mouth was gaping as she tried to breath through a windpipe that would be severely swollen.  What she'd just experienced would be the equivalent of getting the wind knocked out of her . . . just ten times worse.  Her body was flooded with adrenaline, her muscles desperate for oxygen, her diaphragm working convulsively to draw air into her lungs, but unable to do so.

   "Just calm down, niña.  Calm down.  Slow breaths.  I know it hurts, just take slow breaths."

   Tess heard this somehow through the layered screams of her body.  She was one giant, insensible, ache.

   She'd had a really bad case of strep throat as a child, where her throat had felt like flaming sand paper, and it'd hurt to breathe.  That was nothing compared to this.  This was scary, not because it hurt to breathe, but because she was unable to.  Her hands found fabric, or a clothed appendage or something, and they squeezed, trying to transmit the panic she was feeling.

   "Just relax.  It's over.  In a few minutes some of the swelling will go down, and it'll be easier to breathe.  You're going to sound like a frog whenever you open your mouth for a few days, and you might have a scar from our friend's crude tactics, but you're going to be fine.  And if you're not, I'm going to have to kick your ass, because I can't have wimps going into enemy territory.  It'd be a good way to not only get you and me killed, but other agents.  So suck it up, niña."

   Tess knew that voice, and at the moment, it was more beautiful than anything she'd ever heard in her life, because hearing it meant she was alive.  

   Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen as Sands and Tess sat in the hallway.  Finally, twenty minutes after Sands had arrived, Tess was able to breathe, if not comfortably, then reliably.  With this newfound ability, she managed to whisper, "You're an ass," before coughing harshly.  And the worst part was, the words had barely been audible.

   Once the spasm passed, she allowed Sands to help her stand.  For a moment she glanced at the body of the man who'd attacked her, but then she kept her eyes pasted on her feet as he helped her into the living room.  He sat her on the couch, then walked over to where she kept her ice bucket.  There were several bottles of water next to the container, and Sands grabbed one, picking up a nearby notepad and pen as well.  Going back to the couch, he handed Tess the water, and stopped her when she tried to thank him.  "Don't be an idiot, niña.  At least, not any more than you've already been today."

   When she didn't even try to respond, or even look at him, he got impatient.  He couldn't even see her face because her hair had come loose in her struggle and was now curtaining her off from the rest of existence almost.

   Impatiently, he swiped it out of his way, only to reveal that Tess was staring blankly at the floor, slow tears rolling down her face.

   _Ah, fuck._  Like most men, he had no idea what to do with a crying woman.  Much less one that didn't want the rest of the world to know that she _was_ unhappy.  All the women in his past acquaintance had always wailed to wake the dead.  That he could ignore.  This was harder somehow.

   Tess wasn't even really aware of what was happening around her, now that the spike of adrenaline in her blood had mostly burned away and she wasn't fighting for breath anymore.  Now her nerves were shaking and making her tremble right along with them.  And for some reason, she felt guilty for it.  But she'd almost _died._  Didn't she have the right to some sort of display of female histrionics?

   She was startled from these revelations when a pad of paper and a pen were thrust under her nose.  She looked up to find Sands sitting on the coffee table across from her, much as he had been the night before.  The night before when she'd been strong and sure enough of herself to seek him out.  With any other man, she might have turned to them for comfort now, wanting to be held and shielded in the aftermath of someone making an attempt on her life, but with Sands . . . .

   Tess took the pad of paper from him, her eyes once again focusing on the carpet.  Sands didn't bother to say anything, not really wanting to step into the role of comforter, but he was willing to hear what she had to say.  Or read what she had to write as the case may be.

   Another half hour ticked by before Tess was ready to write anything.

   **I was dying.**

   Sands nodded.  "I noticed.  Scary, isn't it?"

   **Yes.**

   Silence reigned again.

   **Who would want to kill me?**

   Sands moved onto the couch next to her, shifting around until he was comfortable as he ran over several different theories.  He'd been asking himself that, and was unhappy with his lack of answers.  He'd have to get a team up here and let them take care of finding those answers for him.  "Well, a rival cartel perhaps.  There's several who are trying to nibble away at the territory now controlled by your family.  If the US government heard that your cousin is looking for you, then it's likely that some cartel out looking to make a name for itself did as well.  Perhaps someone with a grudge against your family, but that's a little to broad to be of any help.  Someone who took a dislike to you personally.  Or he could have been your ordinary, run of the mill, homicidal psychotic."

   Tess didn't ask any more questions.  Instead, she took a slow slip of water, grimacing as it trickled down her throat, coughing when it stopped.

   Sands waited until he was done before asking, "Do you need to see a doctor for that?"

   Tess started to shake her head, but quickly thought twice about that.  **No.  I can take care of the flesh wound at least.  And a shot of cortisone will help ease the swelling.**

   "Suit yourself."

   Silence.

   **I can't stay here tonight,** Tess wrote.

   Sands agreed.  If one person with some sort of unknown agenda had found Tess _and_ tried to kill her, then it wasn't safe for her to stay here without increasing security, and that couldn't happen because it would give away the game.  "Alright.  If you're up to it, we'll move you down to my room while I take care of some things up here, and then we'll check you in somewhere else tonight."

   Tess thought about that.  She didn't really want to move.  She wanted to sit here on the couch for the next hour, or day, or year . . . however long it took her to start feeling like herself again.

**_   He's right.  You need to get out of here._**

   _Alright__._

   Putting pen to paper once more, Tess wrote, **I need my medical case from the bathroom.  I need to clean my neck.  And I'd like to change, I think.**

   "Don't worry, niña.  I'll have someone pack up your things for you and move them to your new room."  Sands stood and pulled Tess to her feet.  "Where's this case of yours?"

   **Bathroom cabinet.**

   Sands walked into the back of the suite, stepping over the body of the man he'd killed with a grimace.  He didn't like killing people.  If he had to kill someone, that meant he'd lost control of the game somehow.  Death was the ultimate defeat, whether it was his or someone else's.  It meant he hadn't been a good enough manipulator to keep all the pieces on the board.  Not that he was squeamish about taking a life if that life was determined on taking his own.  Or that of someone he wasn't finished using.

   And he was a long way from being done with using Tess, both for personal and practical reasons.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Three hours later, Sands didn't know any more than he had when he'd ushered Tess down to his room to clean up and get some sleep.  She'd been reluctant to sleep, but he'd insisted, watching as she gave herself a tranquilizer shot.  Once he was assured that she was out of trouble and locked in his room, he went back upstairs.

   While Tess had been tending his wounds, Sands had gotten a small team of CIA agents to her room with no more than a few phone calls.  By the time he'd gotten back, the body was gone, the blood had been cleaned from the carpet, and people were searching to find out how the man had gotten into the room without ,shooting off the lock, himself.  The rooms in this hotel all had pass cards, and very secure ones, especially the penthouse suite.  To anyone's best guess, their dead intruder had swiped a maid's pass card or stolen one from the front desk – which was nearly impossible because the lobby was always full of people and the front desk watched by around the clock video surveillance.

   With every answer that he didn't have, get, or find, Sands' temper grew.  Finally he'd called an end to the pow-wow, had barked out orders to run the man's fingerprints and face through the FBI database, the Interpol database, and to INS.  He wanted an identity by this time tomorrow.  Then he had someone start packing up Tessa's clothes, although he grabbed some sweats for her to change into once she woke up.  He wasn't going to move her until the morning, when her head would be clear of any drugs.  And lastly, he had some green agent with a fast growing reputation for technical skills go over to the room they'd checked out for Tess and start planting bugs – video and audio – and to set up a command center in another room.  One checked out to a 'Giovanni Tirado.'

   The stakes had just been upped, and he was not going to be the one to fold.

************************************************************************

**Quotes:** none for this chapter, but I hope to see them return in the next.

**Author's Thanks:** to be quite honest, I don't quite have the energy to do the detailed thanks I usually do, but I do want you all to know that I appreciate and take to heart each review that I get.  With that said, thanks go to: **Kontara****, Dreamgirl21147, Tracy6, C.J. Davis, normal human being, Pixy, dissolved star, Crystal Symphony, Satisdee **(glad you're back!)**, relaxed_guru89, and PPL!**

**With that all said, I'm going to take a moment to inform you about a side project I've been working on (another reason this took forever to write).  I've been writing something of an AU story with Merrie, another author in the OUATIM and POTC fan 'verses (she wrote 'Darkness Rising,' 'Broken Wings,' and 'A Gilded Cage.') that combines her Jeffrey (Sands' other side) and my Salida (Tessa's voice).   The story is basically smut inspired by, "What would happen if Tessa's voice ever met Sands' voice?"  So, you can check that out if you want at ****à http : // adultfan . nexcess . net /aff /story . php ? no=21691  (please ignore the spaces.  Stupid ff.net wouldn't let me post the address without them.)**


	8. It's Begun

**Author's Note:**  once again I apologize for getting this out a week later than I wanted to.  Unfortunately, this story just isn't progressing as fast as the other did.  But that's also good, because it gives me time to really make sure that I have to plot going where I want.  

Once again, this chapter did not make it past my betas, and I'm sorry for that, but I really wanted to get it out tonight.  ^_^  Please let me know if there are any glaring errors you see that need to be fixed.

Author's thanks at the end.

************************************************************************

It courtyard was quiet, the winter sun shining down with enough warmth to banish the need for anything heavier than a light jacket.  

   It was two or so in the afternoon, and Neva Velasquez was reading on the terra cotta patio, a glass of iced tea in front of her and a pistol on her hip.  Her brother had asked for privacy as he gardened, so here she sat, discouraging anyone who might intrude on his thoughts.

   _If only . . . _ She stopped herself from thinking the same thoughts that'd been haunting her for weeks now.  Carlos wouldn't tolerate hearing them, and they did no good when kept to herself.  Still, she couldn't help wishing that Teresa had made herself a bit more accessible, or at least easier to find.  It would have taken a great deal of stress off her brother, and therefore off her.

   "Señorita Velasquez."  

   Neva looked up from her thoughts to find one of the cartel's many henchmen standing off to her side, cell phone in hand.  She took it from him.  "Salga de aquí." _ Get out of here._  Then she put the phone to her ear.  "Hablas."

   "Damnit.  I told that _híbrido_ that I wanted to talk to Velasquez.  _Escuche__ aquí, senorita.  Déme el jefe._"  /Listen here, missy.  Give me the boss.\

   The woman rolled her eyes at the man's arrogant tone.  "This is Neva Velasquez.  My brother asked not to be disturbed by anyone . . . and until I learn what you're calling about, that includes you."

   There was a pause on the line as the man considered his options.  "I finally found the little _agitadora__._"  

   _Trouble-maker._  Neva recognized the man's voice.  "Mr.  Keel.  So good to finally hear from you . . . and with such anticipated news.

   "Can I talk to Velasquez now, or are you going to put me on hold again?  I've already been holding for two damn hours, and quite frankly, I'm getting sick and tired of being given the run around.  You people hired me –"

    "That's right, Mr. Keel.  We hired you.  Nearly a year ago.  The only reason you're still breathing is because you made certain _assurances_ to us and my brother decided to let you do your job, but even he is starting to grow impatient.  That you've found our cousin will please him greatly.  And I am going to put you on hold."  Pressing the button, Neva stood up and stretched.  Then she wandered into the garden, in no big hurry to rush things along for Keel, but not wanting to linger with this news.  Her brother was even-tempered, and would disregard a rule if he saw the need for it, but he was not a man to openly cross.

   She found him working in a pocket of candy tuft and heliotrope, under a largish acacia.  "Carlos."

   "I don't want to be disturbed, not even by you, Neva."

   Quiet as the reprimand was, it was still painful.  But Neva tucked away her hurt.  Getting to the point she said, "Keel has found Teresa."

   This got Carlos' attention.  "Give me the phone."

   Neva handed it over, then moved away when Carlos signaled that he wanted some privacy.  Sitting on a bench, she watched as the conversation wore on.

   It was some ten minutes later when her brother turned his attention back to her.  He tossed her the phone then said, "You're meeting Keel in San Antonio day after next, so I suggest you pack and make arrangements."

   "What?"  Neva dared challenge her older brother by asking the question.

   "Tessa is in San Antonio.  Keel is on his way there now to locate her, but I don't want him bringing her back by himself.  He's a crude man, and enjoys having others fear him.  I want you to go down and take charge of Tessa.  Pay the man half of what we agreed on.  If he protests, remind him he took a year to complete the job.  If he doesn't see things our way, kill him."

   "But –"

   "_Eschuca_," Carlos broke in.  "Tess is being brought home to her family, not as a condemned prisoner.  I understand her reasons for leaving, but it's time for her to come home.  I will not have her frightened by the likes of Keel when she can have someone she knows there to make the transition easier for her.  Go."

   Neva turned on her heel and went back to the house, glad of nothing but the fact that there had been no one to overhear conversation between brother and sister.

************************************************************************

Tess woke with a gasp, soaked in sweat and trembling uncontrollably.  The moment air flooded her fear-starved lungs though, she regretted her haste.  Her throat was still sore from her attempted . . .

   **_Murder?_**  Tess shivered and pushed a tumble of hair out of her face.  **_What's wrong, Teresa?  Can't you admit that there's people out there who do _not_ have your best interests at heart?_**

_  I **know** that.  I know that.  I've known that since before I can remember, and my current situation – the very reason I'm in __San Antonio__ – would seem to be proof of that.  It's just that no one has ever tried to** do** anything about it before._  Tess looked at the bedside alarm clock – 3:57.  _Might as well stay up._  Her skin was clammy and cold.  _A shower.  I'll take a shower._

_   **Going to wash that man right out of your hair?**_ the voice asked slyly.

   _I wasn't thinking about 'him.'  Whoever 'him' is this time._

   **_Sands.  The man who tried to kill you four nights ago.  Carlos.  Keel, or whoever's been sent after you.  Your father.  It doesn't really matter – they're all weighing heavily on your mind._**

   Tess didn't bother replying.  She recognized the mood her voice was in – it was looking to pick a fight just to be argumentative.  No matter what she said or tried to justify, it'd argue with her.

   But her silence didn't help her cause.

   **_Shall we just start going down the list?_**

_   No._  Tess closed the bathroom door behind her, making sure to lock it.  Reaching into the stall, she turned on the water, steam billowing up within seconds.

   **_Oh.  So you want to just identify the major threats then.  I suppose that makes sense._**

Tess tensed as she stepped into the shower, both from the anticipation of the hot water, and because she was sure the voice was going to start in on Sands again.  _No, that's not what I – _

**_   Let's start with your darling cousin Carlos, shall we?_**

   Tess hissed.  The water was hot, almost unbearably so on the wounded skin of her neck, but she had to sigh in relief all the same.  Carlos.  He was a problem she could wrap her mind around.  Sands was getting too unpredictable these days, what with how her body _still_ hadn't had enough of him, and how he'd kept her from dying of strangulation, and how he'd taken care of her in the aftermath.  So, by all means, she'd rather focus on a upcoming problem than a current one.  _What's your problem with Carlos?_

**_  He's an unknown.  I've never met the man.  He was off getting his own training by the time I . . . was introduced on the scene._**

_   Way to be tactful._  Tess hadn't bothered to start washing yet.  It was enough to feel the water rinsing away her stress.

**Anyway,_ my point is, you don't even know Carlos anymore.  How old were you when he was sent away?  How old were you the last time you saw each other?_**

_   I was eleven, and he was fifteen._  Tess remembered that very vividly.  Just the week before he'd been sent off – to a military school if she wasn't mistaken – she'd broken her arm after falling off a horse that was too spirited for her to control.  She, Ajedrez, Carlos, and his younger sister Neva had all been out riding.  It was a skill that was part of their 'classical education' that Barillo insisted they have.  She remembered how it'd happened when the cartel was based outside San Miguel; the landscape there was hotter and drier than it was closer to the coast.  They'd been out riding, and a snake had startled her mount.  It'd reared, she'd been thrown, and she could remember the sensation of feeling her radius snap.  Carlos had helped her back to the main house, encouraging her all the way, and finally handed her over to Guevera, who'd set the bone with impersonal hands.  She remembered crying silently as he'd applied a cast, and that Carlos had been waiting for her afterwards.  And he'd given her his handkerchief to dry her face before her father saw that she'd been crying, and then he'd given her a hug.  But the timing had been wrong and Barillo had caught them.  Tess didn't see anyone for the next ten days, and by the time she was allowed to leave her room, Carlos had been gone.  Needless to say, Neva – who was only a year younger than her brother and very close to him – had not been happy with her.  In fact –

   **_Are you listening to me, Teresa?_**

_   Yes._

**_   Good.  So, are you willing to admit that you don't know your cousin, or at least the man he's become?  People change.  And military schools aren't known for making their students soft.  What else do you know about him?_**

Intellectually she knew that, but she still had a hard time envisioning her cousin as anything but the distant but ultimately decent boy she remembered.  _I heard at one point he was serving as an aide to a captain that reported directly to General Marquez.  And then I heard he was 'back in the fold,' handing some kind of 'rebellion' in the family's holdings in Zacatecas.  I caught a glimpse of him at my wedding . . . I think.  That entire day is hazy.  But the **last** I heard was he was second-in-command of security for the entire cartel, under Alejandro Juarez.  And of course, what the CIA's intelligence file had on him . . . not that I'm putting a lot of trust in that.  They didn't even know his real last name._

**_   I'm glad you realize that much.  And if you can remember that you're meeting a man you have no experience of, then you just might survive this._**__

_   Thank you ever so much._  Tess climbed out of the shower and toweled off.  Once she was mostly dry, she slipped on her silk robe and went to the mirror, plugging in her hair dryer.  Might as well get ready for the day.  _If you're done now –_

_   **Oh no.  I've just started.  Next on the list is whoever's been sent for you.  Have you thought about how you're going to handle that?  I know you.  You're subconsciously expecting them to meet you somewhere and **_**invite_ you to come with them.  We both know that it's more likely that they'll simply find you on the street and throw you into a car._**__

   As much as Tess hated to admit it, the voice was right again.  That was the most likely thing that would happen.

   _Okay, so you're right.  It's likely I'll just be ripped off the street and thrown into a car and taken over the border as fast as four wheels or two wings can take me._  Getting out a brush, Tess started brushing her hair as she dried it.  _And yes, I have no idea who's coming for me.  It might be Keel . . . but with as long as it's taken for him to find me, perhaps not._  Tess didn't want to believe that the one person who'd ever shown her kindness would be as ruthless as to kill someone for not completing a contract . . . but it was what a cartel leader would do.

   Unmindful of her thoughts, the voice continued.  **_And you're just going to go with them willingly?  Without struggle, or fuss, or dignity?  Like the obedient child you're pretending to be?_**

   _ That would be the general idea, yes, if I'm to get this over with so I can go home._

**_   Why _go_ home?  It's not as if anyone there needs you.  Leave the kids to Cora, and stay with your family.  If you do what they ask, they'll treat you well enough, now that your father and half-sister are dead.  You'll never need anything.  You'll –_**

_   No!_  Tess was appalled at the idea of staying with her family . . . and by the fact that the lure wasn't as horrifying as it should be.  _No.  I'm going to bring them down, to help make sure that they don't hurt anyone else with their drugs and their violence.  I –_

_   **Of course, you'll need to prove yourself in some way first.  A show of goodwill and loyalty.  Which brings me to my next point.**_

_   No.  I'm not listening to this._  Tess put down the hair dryer and started braiding her hair, arranging it in a thick braid down her back.  

**_   You know he's a danger.  A lose cannon.  He's probably come up with all sorts of contingency plans that get him out of _****_Mexico_****_ safely if things go sour . . . but how many of those plans include you, do you think?_**

_   Yes.  Excellent reasoning.  And a good idea.  Let's see . . . . Nurse the man back to health just to hand him over to certain death at the hands of my 'family.'  I'm not even technically related to **any** of those people!  They're connected to the Barillos through Ajedrez's mother.  How do I owe them my loyalty?_  Glancing in the mirror, Tess spied her neck.  There was a red line, indicating where the cord had bitten into her skin, and surrounding that were sickly yellow and green bruises.  In another week or so, even the cut would be fading.  _And may I remind you that he saved my life – and therefore yours – the other day?_

**_   Then make up your mind, Teresa.  Conflicting loyalties will tear you to pieces faster than I and the rest of your screwed up mind will.  Either destroy your family or join them.  And if you join them, get rid of Sands.  You can't sit on the fence because both sides will eat you alive if you do._**  The voice was cold and meticulous.  

_   I've made a choice,_ Tess said, opening the door to leave the room.  _They have to be stopped._

**_   That's nice.  And the other point you're being wishy-washy about?_**

_   What point would that be?_  Tess left the bathroom and immediately had to stifle a scream.  There was a man sitting in her living area, lazily smoking a cigarette, though he snuffed it out when she came into the room.  _Sands!_

**_   Exactly.  Where do you stand with _him_?  Is he just a guy you happened to have slept with once or twice, or is he the guy you want standing over you?_**

_   He's my boss,_ she said, a lack of conviction in her tone.

**_   It's a little late for that, Tessa._**

   "Los Armos"

   "Wha-"  Tess tried to ask the question, but a bout of coughing cut her off.  As she slowly tried to calm her irritated throat, she realized that her little internal debate had lasted no more than a few seconds.  When she had control again, she asked, "What?"

   "Los Armos.  Does the name mean anything to you?"

   "Other than 'the guns'?"  Tess shook her head, taking care to speak softly.  "No.  Should it?"

   "The man who tried to kill you the other day, he had a tattoo indicating he belonged to a gang named 'Los Armos.'  They're a street gang, mostly Latino boys, who are quickly becoming a major contender for the drug traffic in San Antonio.  Their territory happens to include the rehab center we stopped by the day of your attack, but I'm not sure that was the motivation for the attack.  It was too quick for retribution for that."  He reached over and turned on a tabletop lamp, gesturing for her to seat herself.  As she settled on the edge of a nearby arm chair, he continued, "Los Armos is supplied by a minor cartel that's trying to chip away at the territory around Salltio, which happens to on the eastern edge of your family's territory.  I say trying, because they haven't been anywhere near successful as of yet.  But whoever controls Salltio would control a majority of the trafficking here in San Antonio.  It's entirely possible that somehow they heard you were in town and alerted their boys.  And then when we went downtown, they –" he suddenly broke off as he noticed Tessa's eyes drooping.  Taking a moment to examine her more closely, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, a clear indication that she hadn't been sleeping well for several days.  "What time did you wake up this morning, pequeña?"

   Tess shrugged.  "In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning."

   Sands took that mean very early indeed.  "And yesterday morning?"

   "Ummm . . . about the same time."  She grew a bit defensive when Sands did nothing but stare at her.  "I can't sleep, alright?"  It was one thing when her friends worried about her sleeping habits – not that she thought he was worried, per se – but she certainly didn't need him nagging her to get enough sleep.

   Realizing this, and not particularly caring, Sands smirked.  "And why's that?  Not used to an empty bed?"

   Tess glared.  "I think you know what it's like to try to sleep after nearly dying, señor.  I won't point out the obvious reasons for that."

   Sands shrugged and tilted his head, as if conceding she had a point but was unwilling to admit it aloud.  "Tired Nature's sweet restorer; balmy sleep."  He sighed, and the look on his face indicated that he was impatient, but still willing to deal with roadblocks.  "I suggest you get to bed now.  I'm going to need you at the top of your game and it won't happen if you're dozing off during briefings."

   "That's very kind of you, Sands, but I don't believe I need to listen to you in the matters of personal health.  Not to mention that it won't matter if I _do_ go to bed, because _I can't sleep._  Every time I start to drift off, I panic, because you're completely vulnerable when you're asleep."

   "Relax.  I've got some things to work on.  You snooze."

   Tess stared at him in disbelief for several seconds before sarcastically commenting, "Oh, so you're my bodyguard now."  Shaking her head, she said, "Thank you, but no.  Your presence doesn't exactly inspire me to sleep."  When the smirk on Sands' face grew, she rephrased what she'd just said.  "You make me too _nervous_ to sleep."

   _Ok.  This is getting ridiculous._  "It didn't look that way just a few minutes ago, niña.  A few minutes ago, you were falling asleep before my very eyes.  And I seem to remember several instances when you _were _able to sleep with me around."

   "Yes, but you were –" _Blind.  Safer._  "We weren't –" _ Sleeping__ together._  Flustered, Tess snapped, "That was different and you know it, Sands.  Things were a lot more uncomplicated then."

   _Someone has a strange definition of 'uncomplicated.'_  "You're asleep on your feet and a danger to me and yourself.  Now, go get in bed and take a nap.  I'll wake you by nine if you're not awake already."  He came over and took her arm, noticing how she stiffened at his touch.  "Sleep then talk.  I have a few things to go over with you still before I turn you loose to get yourself captured."

   Tess sighed, facing up to the obvious fact that she didn't really have a choice in this.  Either she slept, or Sands would grouse and carp at her for the rest of the day.  Even dream-plagued unconsciousness was preferable to that.

   "Fine," she murmured, laying down and pulling the blankets over her again.  She'd just realized that she wasn't wearing anything more substantial than a robe, and she didn't trust Sands around her while she was in it.  Or more to the point, she didn't trust _herself_ around Sands while in it.  It was true that he wasn't making any advances, but there was a purely masculine look in his eye that told her he wouldn't turn down her advances either.  _I doubt he even knows it's there,_ she thought, curling around a pillow.  _And I'm certainly not going to point it out.  Not until he doesn't confuse me so badly anymore.  Because in my state, I'll take any comfort I can get . . . even false comfort and simulated love._

   With these uplifting thoughts, Tess dropped off, her body demanding some sort of break from her sleepless nights and preoccupied mind.

   Sands watched from nearby as she fell asleep, her breaths soon growing deep and even.  Once he was sure that she was as soundly asleep as was possible, he moved away, letting out a pent-up breath.  He'd seen the interest that'd sparked in her eye, even if she hadn't been aware of it.  And as much as he wouldn't mind taking her up on her offer, he had been serious about needed her in top shape.

   **_Top shape for what?  For you to bed her?  Downright gentlemanly of you._**

_   That's not what I meant.  At least not directly.  Think about it.  Would all her friends have gotten so worked up if nothing happened when she didn't get enough sleep?  The last thing this operation needs for another thing to go wrong before we even really get started.  And a schizophrenic episode would definitely be something going wrong._

   Sitting down at the table, Sands pulled the stack of files that he'd set in the center of it towards him.  Glancing briefly at the tabs – _Los Armos; Velasquez; Barillo, Armando; Barillo, Teresa_ – he grabbed the one with Tessa's name on it and started reading, quickly opening up the one for her cousin as well.  As he set and read, he took mental notes, trying to figure out what the dynamics between the two cousins would be and how he was going to be able to affect them.  To all reports, Carlos Velasquez was a charismatic man, able to manipulate people easily.  And while he hadn't heard Tess express any fondness for the man, he hadn't heard her disparage him either as she had the rest of her family.  If he didn't want to loose and operative, he was going to have to know what sort of things to do and say to keep her on her guard.

   It was more than an hour later when he looked up again.  He'd been deep in dissecting the possible moves that the cartel could be making to take over more territory when a series of low whimpers had broken his concentration.  Rubbing at eyes that burned from not having changed contacts recently, Sands looked towards the bed.  The sounds had stopped, but Tessa looked anything but peaceful.  She was lying in the bed with the blankets pulled tight around her body, so he couldn't actually see any of her body, but there was something about the way she was holding herself that made it seem as if she were tense.  After a few seconds of uninterrupted observation, Sands simply shrugged and went back to his files . . . only to be interrupted once again.

   // No.  Estancia lejos.  No confianza del usted.  Apenas satisfágame, deje ir.\\  _No__.  Stay away.  I don't trust you.  Just please, let me go._  She was silent for a moment, then another whimper broke free as her shoulders hunched.  And after that, her dream apparently exploded into action.  "NO!" she screamed, her limbs trying to break free of the clingy embrace of the blankets.  She only tangled in them farther, and her desperation only increased.

   Having heard enough, Sands got up from the couch and went into the sleeping area.  Hovering over Tess, he put a hand on her shoulder and shook her – not harshly or gently, but uncompromisingly.  The moment he touched her, her eyes shot open and she tried to throw herself away from him, but since she was so tightly wrapped in the blankets, she only rolled a few feet away.

   But apparently this space was enough.  Tess sat up, staring around her wildly for a moment as she tried to catch her breath.  She locked eyes with Sands for a few seconds before shaking her head and closing her eyes, resting her forehead on drawn up legs.

   Sands let her be for several minutes while she gathered herself before asking, "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

   Tess shook her head, but in confusion, not denial.  "The world is changed," she whispered, almost to herself.  "I feel it in the water.  I feel it in the earth.  I smell it in the air.  Much that once was, is lost, for none now live who remember it."

   Sands didn't say anything, merely crossed his arms and leaned against the headboard of the bed, waiting for her to continue.  He didn't have to wait long.

   "They're coming.  I can feel it.  They're close."

********************************************

An hour later Sands had left and Tess wearily closed the door behind him.  Her head was filled with information and final instructions.  After today, she wouldn't hear from Sands again until she was in place in Culíacan.  If that was where Carlos was still based; it was to the best of the CIA's knowledge.

   Tess didn't trust them.

   Sighing, she turned back to the room, deciding it was best to get dressed.  Now that she was alone without Sands' overbearing voice filling the room, she found her mind drifting back to the dream that woken her.  _At least Sands managed to do **something **for me.  I didn't dream about being killed._  No.  Not this time.  This time she'd dreamt about being caught in this little scam by her family.  They'd tried to convince her that they didn't want to punish her for it . . . but then they'd brought out Sands.  And then they'd both had a gun in her hand, and she'd _known_ that she was going to shoot him, and that knowledge had nearly destroyed her.  But before the dream could end, Sands had woken her, leaving her filled with the overwhelming sensation that this was going to go down _today._  And that as long as they were involved – either in business or . . . or pleasure – then they were a danger to each other.

   _Not that he was going to listen to the emotion premonitions of an overwrought insane woman,_ she thought bitterly, dressing in slacks, a short-sleeved turtleneck shirt, and a bright turquoise blue suit jacket.  Carefully she arranged the silver locket on it's delicate chain so that it was outside her shirt.  Wearing the thing had become second nature in the five days since her attack.  She didn't like that Sands could listen in on her one-sided muttered conversations with the psychological fragment in her head, but that was life.  There was a lot going on lately that she didn't like.

   Sitting at the room's desk, Tess opened up her laptop and started writing e-mails to her adopted housemates.  Most of the current situation had been explained to him, and so her to him included a request that he look out for his younger siblings while she was away and to help Cora around the house.  The woman had moved in her Tessa's absence, and she only hoped that she wasn't being overwhelmed.  But Tess knew how much the other woman loved being with the kids . . . and none of her phone calls or e-mails had mentioned any problems . . . .

**_   Just another bit of evidence proving that you don't have to come back to the States._**

_   I don't like the heat.  And it never gets cold in __Mexico__ unless you're in the desert, and I don't like how dry it gets there._

_   **Whine about it some more, why don't you.**_

   Tess focused on her computer screen.  She wrote a note to Alma, telling the girl to remember to work on her math homework and to ask for help when she needed it.  Tess also reminded her not to fight with Marcos.  In the months before she'd left, Tess had noticed that more fights than usual were occurring between the two siblings.  She thought it might be  an oldest brother vs. oldest sister power struggle, but, she hadn't been around lately to talk to either of them.  

   René got a warning not to play any practical jokes while she wasn't around.  The boy had made friends with the neighborhood rascal, and the two had been inseparable ever since.  Their tricks didn't cause damage, and they hadn't hurt anyone – yet – but Tess knew just how quickly things could escalate out of control, especially as winter drug on in the far north and pent up energy started demanding new ways to be released.

   Selena was too young for notes, but Tess had sent several picture books home last week, and hopefully that would make do.  There had also been gifts included for the other children – trinket jewelry and interesting novelty toys – and Tess hoped that would offset any jealousy over their sister's larger gift.

   Cora got a longer message.  Tess reiterated all the instructions, directions, and cautions that she'd said before she left.  Bank account numbers to pay bills and run the household, phone numbers of neighbors, where extra cash was in case of an emergency, and the number of her lawyer.  One of the last things Tess had done before leaving New York had been revising her will and leaving letters for each of the children and Cora with the man just in case things did not run as smoothly in Mexico as the government promised.

   Having sent off her last correspondence for some time, Tess sat for several minutes and started at the blank screen of her computer, not even noticing when the screensaver came on.

   **_Are you going to sit here forever and be bored out of your mind just to avoid going outside?_**

_   I'd like to._

**_   Coward._**

_   Cautious._

_   **It's a job that's never started that takes the longest to finish. **_

 _  Little by little, one travels far. _

**_   Then get your butt in gear.  Either they're waiting for you outside, or they're not.  You're not going to find anything out by sitting here.  Well, nothing other than how long you _can_ sit here without Sands coming in and dragging you down to the street and throwing you into a south bound car himself._**

_Advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill._  But despite this retort, Tess wearily got up from her seat, turned off her computer, and closed it.  Looking around she grabbed her shoulder bag and put her laptop inside it.  There was nothing else she could take with her without it looking as if she were expecting a sudden departure, so Tess took a deep breath and left her room.

********************************************

It was nearing three o'clock in the afternoon when Tess exited one of the more upscale shops in San Antonio's more upscale shopping district.  The hours had dragged by slowly as she'd gotten more and more tense.  _Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean everyone isn't out to get you.  _She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched constantly, and while she knew it could simply be her paranoia acting up, she didn't think it was.  But if something didn't happen soon, she was going to snap.

   She was preparing to cross the street at a crosswalk when she heard the squeal of breaks that had suddenly had too much demanded of them.  Immediately on guard, she kept walking, trying not to act as if she were expecting anything.  She heard two car doors open, and several sets of running footsteps.  _It might not be anything.  It might just be the police trying to catch someone.  It might not have anything to do with me –  Before_ she could finish the thought, a hand on her elbow twirled her around, and another on her shoulder steadied her.  With wide eyes she saw a man with a gun inconspicuously held on her – _Keel,_ her stunned mind told her – and a woman, about her own height.  Before she could ask who the woman was, the question was answered for her.

   //¿Qué?  ¿Ningún abrazo para un prima perdido largo?\\ the woman asked sarcastically.

   "I'm sorry, I don't usually hug strangers on the street."  Then looking closer at the woman, Tess asked, "Neva?"

   "Oh.  You do remember.  I'm honored."  Tess couldn't help but shiver as her cousin's tone reminded her of Ajedrez.  She'd had that lazily superior drawl as well.

   With a insistent hand, Neva led Tess to the car and made her get in.  Closing the door after her – Keel got in the front seat of the Cadillac sedan – her cousin started, "Well, you've certainly led us on a merry chase.  Care to explain yourself?"

   Deliberately pulling up her mask of professionalism, Tess asked in a cool voice, "Were you instructed to interrogate me?  Because if you weren't, I don't see that I owe you any answers."

_   Still the stuck up brat I see._  "No.  I suppose you don't owe me any answers.  But I'd be thinking very hard about what your explanation is going to be, _prima_.  Carlos is going to be expecting answers."

   And with that ominous threat, the ride to the airport was completed in silence.

************************************************************************

**Quotes:**  Yay!  They've come back.  South Pacific; F. Scott Fitzgerald; Edward Young; Lord of the Rings; Tolkien.

And again, if you have any quotes you'd like to send me, I'd love to get them.  ; )

**Author's Thanks: **

C.J Davis (Heh.  Yeah, I thought it'd be a good twist to throw in.  You see a lot of stories where the heroine gets hurt, the hero rescues her, and then she breaks down in the shelter of his 'strong, manly arms.'  I wanted to do a scene like that . . . but keep everyone in character.  And I think I managed that.  And I agree with the annoying voice.  I know I've got one.  I saw a Johnny Depp interview over 'Secret Window' and he said that we've all got that voice, but if we talk out loud to it, then we'd be thrown in a rubber room.  ;)  I agreed with that.); Dreamgirl21147 (Why do I end with cliffies?  Either I run out of material, or I think it'll be easier to pick up again if I end there.  Or sometimes it's just that the chapter would end up being 20 pages long if I didn't end there.); normal human being (Thanks.  I was a little unsure if I was managing the emotion of the 'death scene.'  It was awkward for me to write, but it definitely came out better than it originally started as.  And yes, isn't the side project fun?  Merrie and I are certainly having fun.); nimwin (I tried to get it out quickly . . . and this is what you got.  I hope it was worth the wait.); nebber (I am trying to make this plot move along a little faster than the one in 'Eyes'.  It helps that I've already developed the characters and all that.); Kontara (Yeah.  Those voices are trouble.  They've been stealing my attention from this.  But I'm dedicated to finishing it.); Roux (Thanks for the compliments.  If you love Sands, yet want to kick him in the head, then I must be writing him well.  ^_^); Ashley (Sorry!  I should have e-mailed.  Every time I remember though, I've already turned off my computer.  I've got to work on that whole memory thing.   As for the relationship between Sands and Tess . . . well, it's moving in that direction.  That would be my final goal, but I want them to be realistically stubborn about it.); Pixy (thank you.  Hope you feel the same about this chapter.); cucumber (Well, I'm living in Washington, but I'm originally from Oregon.  I'm living with an aunt and uncle in the Seattle area.  I'm glad you thought the chapter was well written.  Hope this one lives up to the last.); Nefarious Coda (I'd like to go to Mexico.  *sigh*  Action sequences are tough.  I'm really not the action movie type, so it's not something I've seen or read a lot of.  It was pretty short and cut and dried at first, but I revised, and I'm glad to see that it got better.  Also glad I've got Sands in character still.  The subplot?  Well, I wanted some real life in there.  And I realized I wasn't including any of the worry Tess would have for her family, so I put it in.  Life is conflict, and I decided I needed that in here to make the story better.); Carlses (Gotta love the quotes.  I'm glad you see Tess in that light, because that's what I want her to be.  She's a woman in a situation and circumstances that she doesn't like, and all she wants is to be left alone to live her life as normally as she can.  But she's also smart enough to know that she needs to deal with life as it comes to her.  Always on the lookout for quotes, so feel free to send them.)


	9. Double Agent

**Author's Note:** short chapter this time around, but I felt that adding any more to it would make it cumbersome to read.  Also, I wasn't sure if anyone is still reading this.  So if you are, let me know.  Reviews help stimulate the imagination.  I'm sure of it.  ^_^

Author's thanks at end.

************************************************************************

Sands didn't want to admit it, but he was worried.  Tess had disappeared off the radar over a week ago.  Literally.  The same necklace that had a microphone in it, also had a homing device.  She'd disappeared on a Tuesday, and had then been taken south.  The microphone was only good for a radius of twenty miles, and it hadn't taken long for her to move out of that range.  But it had been enough time for Sands to be content that she was with her family – or at least a representative of it.  There had been no mention of a 'Neva Velasquez,' or even a 'Neva Barillo,' but Tess obviously knew the woman.  And while she didn't appear to be on the best terms with her, she did seem to expect to arrive in Mexico safely.

   If only the name of the town they were going to had been dropped.

   _-Ring-  Sands'_ phone started plating a Beethoven concerto.  He wasn't quite sure when his normal ringtone had been changed, but he was relatively certain who had done it.  It was beyond him though, why he hadn't changed it back yet . . . but he told himself it was because he had better things to do with his time than play with his cell phone.

   "Sands."

   "We found her."

   Immediately the CIA agent sat upright from where he was slouched in a chair.  He'd been getting little sleep for the past few days, most of his waking hours spent trying to locate Tess and come up with strategies in case she'd been lost.  No one would raise much of an alarm if another body was found in just another ditch somewhere.  And if that had happened, he would have been screwed.  "Where is she?"  _I'm going to wring her neck if she's alright._

   "Mexico City.  She came in range last night.  We tried getting through to you last night, but the line was busy every time we tried."

   Rather than make excuses or be embarrassed that he'd been conducting a quiet but thorough manhunt for the wayward mole, Sands tried to remember the name of the agent he was talking to.  _Hackshaw__._  "Is her radio coming in?"

   "Yeah . . . nothing but road nose and some rather inconsequential talk so far.  Earlier this morning there was the beginning of what could have been an interesting catfight, but the other woman seemed to back off at the last moment."  The other man chuckled.  "Although, I must admit that your civilian was taking a verbal beating.  I can't say I think she's much of a match for these bastards."

   He wasn't surprised.  Tess stood up for others, not herself.  "You've got it backwards," Sands pointed out with some satisfaction.  This guy was starting to irritate him, and throwing him off balance would be a good cure for that.  "The cousins are legit.  It's Tess that's the bastard."  There was silence from the other man.  "Listen, just pipe the signal through, Hackshaw."

   There was grumbling from the other man as the necessary connections were made, but soon Sands was listening to the quiet sound of a car in transit.

   For several minutes there was silence, then a voice suddenly broke in.

   "Where are we going?"

   Tessa's voice was chilly and cultured, showing mild interest and indifference at the same time.  Sands strangely found himself thinking back to a conversation he'd once had with Tess.  He couldn't see her – could only hear her – and she'd been pissed at him.  He couldn't remember why.  Just that he'd been amused by the tone of icy unconcern in her voice.  Anyone who took the time to pay attention to her behavior would know that it was an act.  But then, he hadn't had much to do then besides unravel the puzzle of his unwilling nurse.

************************************************************************

"Where are we going?"  Tess was tired of being left in the dark and treated as unwanted cargo – important cargo, but cargo nonetheless.  For the past week she and her cousin had been traveling around what felt like the entirety of Mexico.  She hadn't been told why, but she guessed that Carlos was traveling to keep his people in line, and that she and Neva were playing catch-up.  They'd been in Mexico City since last night, and this was the first time they were traveling in something more comfortable than a Suburban.  Logic suggested that Carlos was nearby.  _I wonder if anyone is picking any of this up,_ she thought as she adjusted her glasses.  Audio was one thing, but was anyone trying to record what the cameras in her glasses were picking up?

   "It's enough that we're going, ratón.  Are you going to complain about everything?"  Neva's voice was bored and slightly irritated.  She didn't enjoy Tessa's company any more than the other woman enjoyed hers.

   _Mouse._  Tess hated the nickname.  It was a reminder of how she'd spent so many years creeping about the periphery of the cartel, literally and metaphorically.  _The mouse has grown up though,_ she thought.  _Into a rabbit._  A ironic smile twisted her lips.  _A bit bigger, but still just as scared._  "I don't think it's unreasonable for me to ask where I'm being taken, Neva.  Especially since I'm going without a fuss."

   Her cousin glared at her with minor irritation – Barillo's bastard daughter didn't merit any stronger emotion.  It was several minutes before she answered as she looked out the window at the passing scenery of Mexico City.  "We're meeting Carlos for lunch."

   Tess only inclined her head in acknowledgement, knowing Neva wouldn't see it.  She'd never been close to the older woman, even when they'd lived under the same roof.  And now there was even more of a rift between them. 

   A few minutes later the limo pulled up in front of a small but exclusive café.  La Garza.  The Heron.  All dining was al fresco, the grounds floored in grass.  A stream ran through extravagant landscaping, twining through clusters of forget-me-nots, poinsettia, marigolds, and poppies.  The wrought iron fence that surrounded the grounds was covered in Jessamine and ivy.  The birds that gave the café its name were verdigris, posed amidst the shrubs and by quiet pools.  In the pools were koi – carefully cared for by the groundskeepers.  It was a delightful place, away from the noisy bustle of the street, but Tess couldn't help but let down her guard here . . . even though she knew that was probably why this location had been picked as the meeting place.

   A waiter led the two women to an isolated table near a small waterfall.  Tess hesitated when she saw the man waiting there for them – she barely recognized him at all.

   Carlos stood as his sister and cousin approached.  "Teresa.  It's been a long time."

   "Apparently, if you've forgotten that I prefer to be called Tess."  Despite the chill to her words, she allowed Carlos to take her hands in his, not releasing more than a blink when he squeezed them gently in welcome.  But inside, she could feel more of her defenses lowering; it'd been a long week without touch.  She'd grown lax in the past year, becoming accustomed to getting hugs morning and evening from small arms, and even more spoiled by the feeling of Sands' body against hers.  The past week, having felt no more than harsh grips and indifferent pushes, she'd remembered just what it'd been like to be under the cartel's influence.  Her father's influence.

   Carlos tucked away a grin at her politely defiant words.  "No, I hadn't forgotten.  I just had no idea if you'd outgrown the old nickname . . . or if I was still on the list of people who could use it with your approval."  He pulled out a chair for her to sit in, and Tess took it, smoothing down her skirt as she did so.

   She watched as he preformed the same courtesy for his sister and waited for him to take his own seat before immediately going on the offence.  "I find it strange that you were waiting for _my_ approval to do something so commonplace as use a nickname, especially when you see nothing wrong with nabbing me off the street."

   "Ah, but that is different.  Tell me, Tessa," she inwardly winced as he used the more intimate form of her name, "would you have come if I had simply sent you an invitation?  After so many years on the outside, would you have willingly come back?"  The answer was no, and they both knew it.  "I know what it's like, prima."  _Cousin._  "I know what it's like to be sent away to learn, to be engulfed in a sphere not inundated by cartel politics.  How hard it is to come back, and adjust to _one_ way of thinking after being exposed to so many others."  _No, you don't._  "The transition is rough, and I understand that you didn't have a lot of support.  But it's different now.  Your father and sister are gone, they won't be able to intimidate you anymore.  And I promise to help you adjust.  If our family is going to survive, I'm going to need your help."

   Tess nodded.  "Yes, I can see that.  After all, I know next to nothing about what's going on, I hate drugs, and I don't support violence.  I'm going to be a great _asset_ to the family business."  

   "No, Tessa.  You are an asset to the _family._  Business is only secondary to that, and I won't ask you to take more than a peripheral role in that until you're ready."  He reached across the table and took her hand, shooting Neva a quelling look when she snorted in disgust.  "You've been gone for far too long.  _Familia_ is a source of strength, one denied you for far too long.  It's true that I need your help to stabilize the politics that is the lifeblood of our family, and our family's family, but I ask for no more than your willing cooperation.  And the chance to know the woman you have become."

   Tess took a deep sigh as she looked at the hand folded around hers.  Part of her mind was telling her to trust him, that he was telling her the truth about what he wanted from her.  The rest was screaming at her to keep her guard up.  Carlos might sounds sincere, and might actually have some desire to get to know her.  But he was still _el hefe._  He was still the enemy.  He was still a man who would do whatever was necessary to ensure his grip over his territory and the people who lived in it was ironclad.  She was seeing the silk glove, but she had to remember that it could crush her at any time.

   "I don't suppose I have much of a choice in the matter, do I?"

   Carlos looked this unknown woman in the eye, seeing her internal conflict.  If he trapped her, she'd just fight him, relentlessly and unreasonably.  But if he allowed this to be her choice . . .  "Do you see any men with guns here?  Is the gate locked to trap you here?"  He gestured around them.  "If you wish to leave, you are free to do so.  All I asked Neva to do was to bring you to me so we could talk.  We've spoken.  If you truly want nothing more to do with our family, then go, with my blessing."

   Tess felt the ground tilting under her feet.  She had a choice?

**_   Just because you don't see any men with guns –_**

_   Doesn't mean they're not there.  Yes.  I realize that.  It was a figure of speech._  Whether she liked it or not, she had to stay.  She'd made a 'deal' with the government.  But that Carlos was not forcing her as well, made the pill a bit easier to swallow.

   Looking down at her lap, Tess confessed, "I-I have been thinking about . . . home . . . a lot recently.  Just wondering what would have happened if different choices had been made on all sides.  If we had been a family instead of a corporation."

   Carlos felt a surge of victory.  "That's what I'm offering you, Tessa.  Family, with no conditions."

   Tess nodded slowly.  _Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof._  Taking a breath, she said, "Fine.  I'll stay.  For now.  But I make no promises not to leave later."

   Her cousin nodded in understanding.  "Are you ready to go home?"

   It didn't matter whether she was ready or not; she had to.  Didn't she?  "Yes."  And strangely enough, she found that some miniscule part of her was.

************************************************************************

Two days later and she was 'home.'  Pausing on the threshold of the compound, she took a deep breath, trying to force down the feelings of mild panic and distaste that were building up inside her.  While Carlos was busy greeting the three Dobermans that ran up to him, she looked around, making note of the men with sunglasses and rifles, the women in black and red who were around to . . . keep the troops entertained, and the peaceful quality to the air around her.  Everything was . . . the same.  And that's why she was having trouble.  If this hadn't changed, what made her think that anything else had?

   **_You've changed._**

_   Yes . . . but is that enough?_

   "I've had dinner set out for us on the verandah."

   Tess looked up from her internal musings at the sound of Carlos' voice.  The sun was setting, and the air was growing cool, enough that dining outside might be uncomfortable, but she really wasn't in a position to refuse.  Any hesitance on her part would show how uncomfortable she was here, and that couldn't be allowed.  "Sounds nice," she murmured, holding still as the dogs that had been greeting their master so enthusiastically cautiously approached her.  _If dogs can smell fear, can they tell what causes it?_  Her fear of this place and what it represented overrode her fear of the animals for the moment.  She'd seen what dogs could do to people, but she didn't really care at the moment.

   Carlos watched his pets, making sure they behaved themselves.  Tessa looked like she was ready to bolt, but she let them smell her.  Turning his gaze to his sister, he saw the frustration and irritation on her face.  She'd never gotten along with their cousin, believing Tessa thought she was better than the rest of them when she was merely reserved.  "Neva.  You're free to do as you will.  Dinner has been set out for you, but you can just as easily eat elsewhere if that's what you wish."

   Neva nodded her appreciation, then picked up her bag and left, heading for the main house.  Carlos turned back to his cousin, and offered her his arm.  She looked at it for a moment, before coming to stand by his side, a compromise between what they both wanted.

   "One of my men will take your bags up to your room," he said.  "I hope you don't mind if I put you in a different one than the one you grew up in."

   "No, that's perfectly alright."  Disconcerting that he had taken into consideration how disturbing it would be to return there, but alright.

   With a teasing bow, he said, "My pleasure, señorita."  Tess smiled weakly, and they started walking to the back of the house.

   The hacienda was just as she remembered.  The walls were a warm burnt sienna, wrought iron railings covered over by the same ivy that covered the outer walls.  The archways were lined in white granite, the doorways in brown granite tiles, and lamps hung inside the outdoor hallways to light the paths at night.  Heavy benches of dark wood, ornately carved by some of Mexico's finest craftsmen, were scattered around the perimeter of the inner plaza, offering loiters a place to sit.  Broad-leafed plants stood in bulky planters, completing the picturesque scene.  It was a place that offered rest to the weary . . . . . . a feeling totally obliterated by the gun-wielding henchmen that were spaced ever fifty yards apart or so.

   Glancing up as she was led to the back verandah, she saw that the underside of the archways were still painted a shockingly bright cobalt blue that seemed at odds with the stately color of the house . . . until one considered the overall effect that it added.  This was a house that was proud of its Mexican origins.  A house built by her great-uncle, the seventh of twelve children who had built his fortune on the backs of others.  And was proud of it.

   It was in the spacious ground behind the sprawling residence that her father had conducted much of his business.  And when she looked at her surroundings, she couldn't blame him.  The walls breathed serenity.  You could hear near-by fountains, and there were fantastic marble sculptures placed at either end of the wide verandah.  From here, one could look out over the back gardens – a series of terraced precincts, filled with plants that would flourish best in Culíacan's climate.  Even in winter, a vast array of flora was offered up to the eye.  The stately trees that lined the perimeter of the grounds, and hid the back wall from sight, were still green, and the skeins of Spanish moss hanging from the branches conveyed a sense of grand sorrow and the pride of decades spent sinking roots.  Of living a quiet, orderly, uninterrupted life.

   But it was the memory of what business that had been conducted here that ruined Tessa's appreciation for the place.

   Pulling out a chair from a small table that was placed in front of a small chimenea, Carlos said, "I planted most of the seasonal flowers myself."

   Tess murmured something polite – she wasn't sure what since she really didn't care about the flowers – but her voice was too quiet for Carlos to hear more than an indistinct mumble.

   "Your enthusiasm leaves something to be desired," he drawled taking his own seat.  Almost at once, several men in chief's uniforms appeared to set plates before them.

   "I'm afraid I have little enthusiasm for anything.  That was beaten out of me long ago."  Tess spoke bluntly because Carlos knew at least how her first few years with the family had went, and he'd be a fool to assume that had ever changed.  But still, she wasn't prepared for the reaction her words received.  Carlos reached across the table and took her hand.  _What is it with this man and touching m–_

   "I am not my uncle, Tessa.  He was a good leader for the cartel, but his personal life left a lot to be desired.  I hope to fair better in that department than he did."

   Tess glanced down at his hand pointedly.  "Yes, I can see that.  That's why you're married and have three kids, right?"

   Carlos laughed softly.  "Touché, prima."  Settling back in his chair and taking a bite of the tamales placed in front of him, he continued.  "What about you?  Is there a special man or any children that I need to whisk away for you?  Perhaps the man who gave you that?"

   "Gave me what?" Tess asked as she looked down at her chest, trying to see what he was looking at.  "My necklace?"  He nodded and her heart skipped a beat.  "No.  I bought this for myself a few years back."

   "What's inside it?"

   Tess smiled wryly, the first sign of humor she'd shown since leaving the U.S.  "It's empty.  I haven't found anything important enough to put inside it yet."

   "Still scared of men, jóvenes?" 

   _Young one._  "With reason.  I haven't had the best experiences with them.  They're either controlling, abusive, or a combination of the two."  Resolutely, she kept Sands out of her mind and her dream-father's warning.  Avoiding the wine set before her, she drank deeply out of her water glass.  "Besides, I've been too busy traveling to meet a lot of people.  What about you?  Any plans to eventually settle down and rear children for the glory of Mexico?"  The last part of her question was tinged with irony.

   "If I can convince the right woman to settle down with me, then yes.  I wouldn't mind having my own children.  I'd be sure to isolate them from all this, though."  He gestured to their surroundings with his fork.  "This is no place to raise children.  I mean, look at us.  Ajedrez is dead before her time at the hands of a gringo.  My sister all empathy or sensitivity pruned out of her like a gardener pulls weeds. . ." he trailed off.

   "And you?" Tess asked softly.

   "Un soldado puede marchar sin su corazón, pero él lo falta," he said cryptically.

   _A soldier can march without his heart, but he misses it._  "Throughout my lifetime I've left pieces of my heart here and there.  And now there's almost not enough to stay alive," she commented seriously.  Silence rested over them for several moments before she worked up the courage to ask, "Y yo?"

   "Un niña olvidado."

   _A forgotten child.  _Tess nodded, suddenly weary.  Bowing her head and rubbing the bridge of her nose, she said quietly, "Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.  And having said that, I think I'm ready for bed."

   "Of course.  You've had a long trip.  I'll walk you to your room."  Carlos stood, but Tess motioned him back down.

   "That's alright.  I know this place rather well.  Just tell me where you've put me."

   "Second floor, the room next to the infirmary.  I hope you don't mind."

   No.  She didn't mind.  She wasn't even all that surprised.  She was a doctor, and Carlos would be foolish to not use all the tools he had at hand.  And for the time being, she was one of those tools.  "Why would I mind?" she murmured, turning to go.  But Carlos' final words to her made her pause.

   "I am glad you're back home, querida.  We have much work to do, you and I, to make our family strong again."

   Biting her lip, Tess forced her sudden sensation of guilt down and continued on, determined to get to her room for a bit of peace and quiet.  And booster shot of her dopamine suppressant since she'd been unable to take most of her pills for the last several days.

************************************************************************

**Quotes: **Richard Bach, Blow, Heinrich Heine

**Author's Thanks: **many thanks go to à normal human being (Cliffies happen, unless you write the entire story before posting it.  But you gotta admit, they _can_ be fun.); C.J. Davis (don't let the suspense get to you now, or you'll never survive.  This is nothing yet.); Nimwen (Yeah, no one is so perfect as to be absolutely confident of themselves at all times, and I really want that to be reflected in my characters.  Normal people in extraordinary circumstances and all that.); Kontara (I really do try not to make people wait too long, but it happens.  *shrugs*  I'm trying to work on that.  ^_^); Dreamgirl21147 (thanks for the compliments.  I know how stories can get addicting, and that mine is one of them is always and honor.)

**Additional Info:**I've started a Secret Window fic.  It's called 'Fractured Secrets' and only the prologue is up yet, but I thought some of you might want to check it out.  It's on this site, in the SW _movie_ forum.


	10. Doubt

**Author's Note: hey, I am very pleased to see this chapter out before a month passed between postings.  I swear, I'm getting worse and worse at this.  I'm just glad that I still have a few reviewers.  ^_^**

**Author's thanks at end.**

****************************************************************************

_Even the biggest rooms grew small if one was forced to spend too much time in them.  Tess paced back and forth, through the bedroom, small study, and bathroom that made up her suite.  She was getting cabin fever – she'd read about that in __Treasure Island__ – and it was interesting.  She was starting to hate the sight of her room and everything in it.  Not that there was much to see in the murky twilight.  Her instruments had been confiscated, the power to her room cut, the windows covered and there was a man in the courtyard below watching to make sure she didn't creep close to any of them.  She hadn't seen another person for five days, hadn't eaten in three, and hadn't made any sound at all in two._

_   What had she done wrong this time?  The grown Tess couldn't remember.  It could have been anything.  A missed note at a private recital.  Something less than perfect on a worksheet.  Drawing attention to herself at the wrong time._

Invisible,_ she thought.  _I was invisible._  And she was still invisible for the most part.  Carlos saw a cousin who had something he needed.  __Neva__ saw a girl who'd been too terrified to talk to her own family without permission.  The men in the compound saw the girl who was the bastard daughter of their deceased leader.  The government saw an invalid that they could bully into doing their will.  Sands . . . she wasn't sure what Sands saw in her.  He was too complicated.  A past threat, a current tool, and a semi-agreeable diversion.  Perhaps that was it.  Perhaps she was way off base._

_   In a fit of desperation, in an act to gain some sort of attention, young Tess picked a table up off a lamp and threw it against the front door to her room, an angry scream muffled in her chest.  This was **wrong**.  Why did they treat her like this?  What had she done wrong?   _

_   The crash had been satisfying, but it wasn't enough.  Twirling, the twelve year old ran to a nearby wall, one that was occupied by an enormous mirror.  She was poised to bring it crashing down in a spill of silver glass splinters, but she caught sight of herself.  It was something she avoided doing most of the time, but this time she couldn't, and she was horrified by her appearance.  If Father saw her like this, she'd pay for it dearly.  Her hair was a wild bush around her head, her clothes hanging loosely off her body, her eyes wide and desperate in a small face . . . and as blue as the sky outside must be.  "No," she whispered at those eyes.  "I never asked for you either."_

_   The disapproving image of her father appeared in the mirror over her own reflection.  The only thing his likeness didn't obscure were those **eyes**.  "You're in my house now, Teresa Adame.  My house.  My rules.  You will listen, or you will suffer.  That is how it's always been, that's how it will always be . . . ."_

_   As he spoke, the reflection shifted, and mercifully the eyes changed.  But despite the new face, and the new eyes, the voice was the same._

_   ". . . listen or risk your life.  I am the one in control.  I call the shots.  I throw shapes and set them up . . . or if they don't listen, I watch them fall.  And if you ignore me, I'll leave you here to rot, niña.  I'll leave without a second glance."_

_   "But I gave you your eyes," she whispered in her defense.  "I saved you, helped you, returned you to your home."_

_   "No," Sands disputed.  "You gave me **Tess.  **And I'll use you as I see fit, in the field or in my bed.  You **owe** me.  You will listen to me.  You will obey me."  He frown at her.  "I don't hear you agreeing with me, azúcar."  Sugar._

_   What choice did she have?  "I will listen.  I will obey," she whispered.  And with that, the dream ended._

************************************************************************

She woke with a start, unable to breathe.  There was a gloved hand over her mouth and nose, suffocating her.  She struggled to free herself, but sleep and a lack of air fogged her mind and her hands were soon caught.  Unable to do anything, she tossed her head, feeling the room go black.  It was too soon.  She'd just gone through this, she didn't want to do it again.

   The hand shifted, and she found she could breathe through her nose, and while this wasn't enough to satisfy the demands of her body, it was enough to keep her alive and to help her mind clear.  And once she could think straight again, she realized that someone was talking to her in a voice quiet enough to be drowned out by the rustling of bedclothes.

   "Just calm yourself, sugarbutt.  The last thing I need is for you to scream and bring the guards outside your door in here.  That would definitely crash the little party I'm trying to plan.

   _Sands._  Tess collapsed into the bed, relief soon swept from her veins by anger and irritation.  _What the hell__ is he doing here?  If he's caught he'll end up dead, and possibly me as well._  But irritated though she was, she couldn't help being a tiny bit glad that he was here.  He was a constant in a world of ever-changing variables, and she appreciated that more than she'd imaged a few weeks ago.

   **_Why don't you just admit that you're hot for him, and pull him into your bed.  It's not your childhood bed, but it's good enough._**

_   Bite me,_ she told her voice impatiently.  She didn't _need_ him.  She couldn't let herself need him.  Not here.  It was too dangerous here.

   Sands noticed when Tess relaxed under his hands.  "Good girl.  Now, don't say anything when I let you go.  Don't even get up.  I need to get a chip out of your computer and install a few things, and then I'll be out of here.  But I'd prefer it if your guards didn't hear two sets of footsteps."  His mouth was close enough to her ear that she could feel his breath stirring the loose hairs against her neck.  "Savvy?"

   She nodded, and he let go of her.  But when he turned to get to work, she grabbed his arm.

   Sands frowned, and turned back to Tess, anticipating some sort of silent female drama, but he let her pull him down so she could whisper in his ear.  "What are you installing?"  
   He shook his head, then mimed making a list, then pointed at her laptop.  She nodded, understanding that he'd sent an untraceable e-mail to her private account.  The account had been set up by some of the best in the business so that if someone tried to open it without the right password, every message would immediately be erased and the part of the hard drive that back-ups were normally stored on would be locked.  

   Lost in these thoughts, several seconds passed before Sands cocked an eyebrow at her, looking down at the hand on his arm.  _I need to get to work and get out of here,_ he was telling her.

   Reluctantly she let him go, watching him as he moved around the room.  In his dark clothes, he melted into the shadows.  As he worked, she found herself reminded of the fantasy that'd over taken her as she'd watched him – then a black-clad stranger, dying and fighting in the streets . . .   She could have sworn he was one of the ancient Olmec shamans, a man who could change into a jaguar at will; a human, but more cat than man.  The ease which he now moved in the shadows did nothing to dispel that imagery, neither did the fact that he'd snuck into the compound _and_ her room without one of the many guards noticing.  She'd never seen a man who had such natural grace, and that _this_ man did, only added to his allure.  _His **forbidden** allure._  She had to remember that, and let the past be the past.

   Sands was acutely aware of her eyes on him, and he cursed.  He didn't even know why he was here.  He shouldn't be.  He was risking more than could be ventured at this point in the game.  He should still be concentrating on setting up his pawns to support his queen, not playing the errant knight.  The best way for him to keep her from being captured was to stay a long way away from her.  And that it would keep him from being captured as well went without saying.

   But here he was, in her bedroom, tinkering and puttering with things that didn't need tinkering or puttering.  Installing redundant fail-safes and backups.  Performing a job he could have very well given to the "cleaning woman" they'd placed within the compound.  And why?  To reassure himself that Tess was safe.  Whole in mind and body.  And as he thought that, he stopped cursing Tess, and started cursing himself for being weak.  Tess wasn't his to protect.  He didn't want her to be his responsibility.  It was too much.  She was too fragile.  She was good for an occasion diversion, but anything past that was foolish.

   Finished, Sands turned to leave.  Tess saw that he was gathering his empty bag and getting ready to leave, and her hand twitched, catching his attention.  She met his eyes, not saying a word, relieved and tense as he stayed away from her.  _It's best,_ she told herself, trying to convince herself of the truth of that statement.  And failing miserably.  She wanted him to hold her and let her forget about situation she found herself in.  It was a dangerous need, but no more dangerous than letting herself need him at all.  No more dangerous than they night they'd spent together in San Antonio.

   Sands saw her struggle in her eyes, even across the darkened room, and he hated.  He hated her for falling so easily, and himself for the need to make her fall.  She might not realize it – because if she did, she'd be fighting tooth and nail, not staring at him with such vulnerability – but she was in the palm of his hand.  She was perfectly situated for him to manipulate her . . .  This time he cursed under his breath.  Tess was perfectly aware of his penchant for manipulation.  If he was right . . . .

   Stalking silently across the room, Sands came over to Tessa's bed and grabbed her chin, making her look in his eyes.  Now that he was closer, he could read the expression that had caused him so much unease, and he resented her for it.  And in his resentment, he did what he could to make her hurt, because in her eyes he'd seen that even though he was whole and independent, even though he no longer needed her aid, she was still willing to give everything she had to help him.  Even if that meant letting him manipulate him . . which wasn't manipulation at all.

   Tess shrunk against the bed as Sands' mouth took her lips in an angry kiss.  The contact was brutal and demanding, but her body responded, and that's what scared her.  That she could still find herself softening to man that could use passion and anger against her.  Like her father.

   Struggling now, she managed to bring her arms up and push Sands away.  Panting, she stared at him, saw how he was tensed, as if waiting for her to cry out and alert the house to the intruder in her room, but she couldn't.  She couldn't turn on a patient like that.  He might be able to see again, but he wasn't healed.  He was still wounded, and it was still the fault of her family, and still hers by default.

   "The same blood flows in my veins.  The same weakness," she warned him, certain that by some trait that had been spread to her through her blood, she'd betray and hurt him.  "Convinced myself, I seek not to convince."  Turning her head away, she softly whispered, "Go.  Some traits breed true no matter how diluted the blood," she mocked him with his own words.  "I don't want to kill you, but . . . but what if I'm not able to help it?"

   There was silence for a long time.  Long enough that she became curious.

   By the time she looked back, he was gone.

************************************************************************

Carlos rarely slept these days.  Most of his nights were spent planning and strategizing how to squash various rebellions within his ranks.  Tonight his time was being spent making arguments to convince Tess to join with him.  Now that he had her, he had to get to the money that was held in her name.  With that money, he could pay his increasingly belligerent workers and finally get his plans for the takeover of the territory north of Guadalajara.  He was getting sick of Culíacan and the house here.  It was too moist so close to the coast.  Too hot.  He wanted to move back to his house in the Zacatecas province, where the mountains provided relief from the heat in the winter.  It was dry and hot in the summer, but that's why he'd kept the Culíacan house . . . to avoid that. 

  The house outside of Guadalupe was less well known.  It would be a place to find relief from the pressure of maintaining the cartel, a place where planning a drug-oriented coup would be safer.  Besides, he'd seen the look on Tessa's face over dinner – she hated it here.

   Going to his window, he looked out over the nighttime courtyard.  To his surprise, there was a light shining on the balcony of Tessa's room.  When she'd retired earlier that evening, he assumed she'd sleep the night through.  She hadn't just looked tired – exhaustion had weighed down her words as well.  But if she was up, perhaps this was a good time to talk to her.

   He went to the door of his study and left, dismissing the bodyguards who started to follow him.  He hated that they were necessary, but was practical enough not to do away with them altogether.

   The walk across the compound took some time since Carlos decided to take the outdoor second floor walkway instead of cutting across the courtyard.  The night was pleasant, and he saw no reason to hurry on his way.  Tess would still be in her room when he got there, and if she was still awake, they'd talk.  If not, that was fine as well.

   A few minutes later he was standing in front of Tessa's door.  He nodded to the guards he'd had placed there – both to ensure her safety, and to make sure she wouldn't bolt in the middle of the night – and knocked on her door.

   "Come in."  She didn't sound upset to be interrupted, but she didn't sound as if she relished the thought of company either.  Not that this was going to stop him.

   Opening the door, Carlos stepped into the room, looking around in the dark for Tess.  There was a single light turned on by her bed, but it wasn't enough to chase away all the shadows.  It _was _ enough to see that Tess wasn't in the room.  Walking through the cool room, he made his way to the balcony, where Tess was wrapped in a blanket and sitting in an Adirondack chair.

   "Can't sleep," she murmured, not bothering to look up.  She knew who it was.  Only two people wanted to see her these days, and Sands had just left.

   "Why not?"  He took a seat on the railing across from her.

   "Night has patterns that can be read,/Less by the living than by the dead," she replied cryptically. She rubbed her face with both hands, then said in a normal voice, "Just restless, I suppose.  This isn't exactly what I thought it would be."

   "What do you mean?"

   Tess shrugged.  "Nothing.  Everything.  It's harder than I thought it would be, and easier than I thought it would be.  I don't know what I mean . . . I just know that things weren't supposed to be like _this_."

   **_What are you talking about, Teresa?  Coming home or Sands?  Because I can assure you that men like Sands are always this difficult, and you know what they say . . . only birds can go back to the nest.  _**

   Shaking her head slowly, Tess tried to pull her scattered mind together.  Sands' visit had greatly disturbed her – not that she quite knew why – and scatterbrained was not a good mindset to be in when talking to someone who was your enemy by default.  "I'm sorry.  I'm having a hard time really waking up, I suppose.  Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

   Carlos examined his cousin, sure that something other than sleep was the cause of her restlessness.  "I saw your light on and was a bit surprised.  I thought you might sleep better if you had someone to talk to."

   Tess smiled at that, a wry smile full of self-condemnation.  "Remember that time I broke my arm, falling off that horse?"

   It was Carlos' turn to smile wryly.  "Yes.  It was the straw that broke Uncle's back.  Not that military school wasn't worth making sure you saw Guevera."

   The smile on Tessa's face faded.  "I've fallen off another horse, primo.  And I'm broken inside . . . but I don't think you can help me this time."

   **_How much are you going to tell him, Teresa?  Are you going to let him know that your mind is held together with chewing gum and hope?_**

   "What happened?  A man break you heart?  Do I need to send out a hit man?"

   She laughed dryly.  "Yes.  A man broke my heart.  But he's been dead for over a year now.  And I've been broken almost as long as you've known me.  I just thought . . . I thought that perhaps I was getting better.  But I come back here and I'm the lost five year old who doesn't understand why her father just smacked her."  She gave her cousin a sad smile, then looked back out over the night-darkened landscape.  "I thought I could come back here, but it's hard."

**_   You idiot!  You're letting him in.  You've already let Sands in!  You can't afford to let another in.  It'll destroy you.  Your loyalties are too wide spread.  Tell him to leave or hand over Sands.  For the sake of your own sanity._**

_   No._

   Carlos reached over and took Tessa's hand.  "As soon as I get business wrapped up here, I promise I'll take you away from all this.  We'll go to my home in Zacatecas."

   This was one of the opening she was supposed to be looking for.  And she needed to take it, even if she wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep.  "And then what, Carlos?  What am I going to do?  Sit around, a pretty decoration?  I've gotten used to being of some worth, having something to do with my time other than study and the quiet occupation of staying out of everyone' way."

   "Join us, Tessa.  Uncle had a dream of all of us – of you, me, Neva, and Ajedrez – working together.  He knew we would be unstoppable.  And while I don't deny that he went about things the wrong way, he was right." Seeing that he had her close to folding, Carlos moved to sit at the end of her chair, one of her hands now wrapped in both of his.  "I know we're not technically related, but you have always been a cousin to me.  Without you, I wouldn't have passed biology.  I needed you.  I _still_ need you.  Whether we like it or not, you were taught and developed to fulfill a role, and currently, I'm without a chief physician.  And _that's_ what I need from you.  Even more than the bank accounts I'm sure you're aware of.  I need you at my side, giving me advice along with Neva."

   _Who am I to give advice?  I can't even follow my own._  "Neva doesn't like me.  She's never liked me.  And she won't like that I'm staying."

   "Neva will get over it.  She knows we need you."  Carlos pressed his advantage while he could.  "Join us, Teresa, and I promise I will have you out of here by the end of the week.  I promise you whatever medical equipment you want.  Clothes, jewels . . . whatever you want, I can give it to you."

   **_What's your price, Tessa?  At what price are you going to let him buy your soul?  Your conscience?  Your sanity?_**

   "I've never wanted anything more than family, Carlos.  Nothing more than acceptance."  Her voice was silent, disgusted at what Tess was doing.  "Everything else in life I can get for myself.  Everything else I've been given.  _Familia_ is the only thing that's ever been denied me."

   Carlos was quiet for a moment.  He was divided about how to proceed.  Part of him said he was using Tess, but another part – a voice that had been long quieted by the absence of hope that Tessa would ever be back – told him that he could give her what she wanted.  "You _are_ family, prima.  I've never denied that, and I'm not going to deny it now."

************************************************************************

Ten miles away, Sands was listening in on the conversation over a radio.  There were other people in the room – some delivering reports, some picking up surveillance equipment or developing film, some making a transcript of the conversation he was currently listening to – but they all faded into the background.  He was busy listening to the conversation between cousins . . . and trying to convince himself that he wasn't jealous.  She was simply doing her job – taking advantage of her opening to get into the cartel's hierarchy.

   _And after all, why should I be jealous of a woman who doesn't even know what being in her right mind is?  So she's a good lay, and she helped me out in the past.  Things change._  But he knew there was more to it than that.  After all the hell they'd gone through the year before, after the hell his employers were putting her through . . . he'd though he'd at least had her loyalty.  And either she was a damn good actress, or she was struggling with her loyalties out there.  And that was dangerous.

   **_You're still not telling yourself the whole truth, Sheldon._**

_   The truth is dangerous.  Be content with what I've admitted._

**_   You've got to kill her or claim her.  There's not going to be a medium where she's concerned.  You've invested too much in her.  Too much trust, too many thoughts, too much lust . . .  Just too much, period._**

   "I've never wanted anything more than family, Carlos.  Nothing more than acceptance.  Everything else in life I can get for myself.  Everything else I've been given.  _Familia_ is the only thing that's ever been denied me."

   There was silence.  As much as he tried not to, Sands imagined the close quarters the two cousins who weren't cousins would be in.

   "You _are_ family, prima.  I've never denied that, and I'm not going to deny it now."

   Sands' hackles rose at the tone in the man's voice.  _What the hell?  Is he staking a claim to her, or trying to get to her bank accounts?_

**_   Why does it matter?  You shouldn't care either way.  But then again, you risked your neck just to see her tonight._**

   His conscience was right.  He shouldn't care.  Or if he did care, it should be because he was still trying to get his revenge on the irritating woman.  He cared too much, and he'd trusted too much, and she'd burned him.  She'd left.  _That's why I'm upset.  I need her to be dependent on me, so that when I eventually ditch her, she'll feel as betrayed as I did.  That's the only reason I don't like this guy – he's a threat to that dependence._

   It made sense.

   So why did it sound so empty?

   Sands turned his attention back to the two cousins as he tried to put the whole matter out of his mind.

************************************************************************

"You _are_ family, prima.  I've never denied that, and I'm not going to deny it now."

   Tess stared at her cousin, wondering if he was telling her the truth.  And if he was, could she accept it?  The logical answer was of course not.  She couldn't belong if she was simply going to hand her family over to the authorities.  Because if she did belong, she wouldn't be able to do it.  And if she couldn't do it, then she'd loose the kids and her freedom.  So she shied away from actually accepting his offer.

   "What do you need me to do?" she asked instead.

   "Well, if you're going to be the head physician for the cartel, I'll need you to draw up a list of supplies and people you need.  And if you want to truly help make us strong again, I need you to transfer the off-shore accounts to me.  Or at least give me power of attorney over them."

   Tess nodded, feeling guilty for the thousands of lives she was affecting just to bring down a select group of people.  "We'll go the bank in the morning," she whispered.  "Right now I just want to be alone."

   Carlos nodded, content that he finally had her firmly in his control.  "I will see you at breakfast, querida.  Sleep well."  He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss just above her forehead.

   Tess waited in silence as he left.  When she heard the door shut behind him, she slumped in her chair.  "I hope you heard that," she muttered to whoever was at the other end of the microphone in her necklace.  
   Shaking her head, she got up and went back into her bedroom, climbing under the covers.  She was suddenly feeling exhausted and extremely maudlin.  Wanting to do nothing more than to sleep, she arranged her pillows more comfortably and settled against them, the blankets pulled up to her chin.  But even as her eyes started drifting shut under the weight of her fatigue, her mind asked one last impertinent question.

**_   If you're wearing a bugged necklace, and glasses that have tiny video cameras in them, then why the hell did Sands feel the need to but up surveillance equipment in your room?_**

   Tess had no way of knowing that Sands had asked himself the same thing.

************************************************************************

**Quotes: **Tolkien, LotR; Edgar Allen Poe; and Dean Koontz, The Book of Counted Sorrows.

**Author's Thanks:**  this time around many thanks go to . . . .

**dreamshadow13** (I'm trying to update, update, update, but it's hard because I have to build a lot of character interaction and such in here.  Carlos is giving me a hard time, because I'm trying to built this cartel kingpin that _is_ ruthless, and underhanded, etc., but who's still human and a bit likeable.  But I think I'm getting into the swing of things.); **C.J. Davis** (Oh, he fell a long time ago, but he's a stubborn b*****d, and is fighting it tooth and nail.  And Tess is once again struggling to keep her head above water.  It's fun to write her internal conflicts.  I just hope I'm not getting too repetitive.); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl** (One of these days indeed.  I want it to be a long time coming, but he's making it difficult for me.); **Merrie** (Keeping up?  I don't know about that.  We're writing 20+ page chapters for that one in a matter of days.  It took three weeks to write eight pages of this.  Of course, that's not counting the two chapters of FS I also wrote.  I like Carlos too.  I've definitely got plans for that  guy.); **Cayenne Pepper Powder** (true romance?  I don't know about that.  Romance as far as they're capable?  Perhaps.  Eventually.  Like in the last chapter or something.  : P); **Isola** (wow!  I'm glad to hear from you again.  I'm glad you find it so entertaining.  I work hard to make it so, and I'm glad it's working.); **nimwin** (Yes.  Carlos is complex.  I want him that way.  I want him multidimensional, and faceted, and contradictory.  Makes things ever so much more interesting.); **normal human being** (did I really?  I'm sure I didn't mean it.  I do so love my cliffies. } )  I just got really confused because I got a sense of dejá vu reading your review.  I don't know why.  But yes, I can't imagine Tess immediately knowing how to deal with this.  She'd be able to slip into her emotionless mask, but it'd be so obvious that everyone would notice.  And that she's real is a really nice complement, but I struggle to keep all my characters that way.  Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don't.  It's nice to know that I did this time.); **amberlin** (glad I've gotten you and your sister hooked.  ^_^); **Gia_Jolieuk** (engaging.  That's a very nice word.  I'm glad you saw fit to use it for me.  I hope you enjoy this bit as much as the rest.); **Dreamgirl21147** (lol.  Wow.  I think you're my first reviewer who's ever tried rehab.  Some of the others that needed it aren't reviewing so much anymore, so perhaps that's where they are.); **Scarlett** **Burns** (Yeah, I can't wait to see the effect either.  All I know is I'm preparing to tear the poor woman in two . . . and it's fun.  } )  And yes, Sands is very sexy.  You're not the only one with issues.)


	11. Rendezvous

**Author's Note:** I'm actually proud of this chapter. It's close to being just as long as the last two chapters combined. grins And Sands has a bigger part. That makes me happy.

There is a warning with this one though. There's a bit of what may be 'R' rated physical contact at the end. As I was writing, I found that it was impossible to separate Tessa's train of thought from her actions, and if I cut parts out, I'd loose some of that. I _did_ manage to keep things as vague as I could, which was rather vague indeed. I'll be sending a more complete chapter out later to those of you who have requested it.

For your information, anything enclosed in ** are** people talking in Spanish, but I didn't want to have to write it out in Spanish, and then translate it.

Author's thanks at end.

- - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - -

Three weeks later, Tess was wandering the streets of Culíacan, ostensibly shopping, but not for anything that a normal citizen could buy. During her months here before the coup, she'd made several "friends" who dealt in the black market. Her upbringing had made her wary of authority, but not at all afraid to bend – or break – the rules when she needed to. And since Carlos had informed her that he planned on leaving Culíacan for the mountains by the end of the week, she wanted to stock up on supplies while she could. Finding and obtaining medical supplies without notice was hard enough without doing it in a town that she had no contacts in.

_Speaking of contacts . . ._ she thought, trying very hard to appear as if she weren't expecting anything to happen. It was hard, because she'd received an e-mail that had told her to expect 'company' on her next jaunt into the city. It'd unnerved her, simply because the wording of the short message hadn't sounded like something Sands would send out. She knew that there were other people working this operation – people working under Sands since he was the mastermind and didn't have time to attend to every detail – but she liked to think that _she_ at least was one detail he wanted to handle himself. But then again, perhaps she'd been wrong. It'd been known to happen.

[How much longer is this going to take, Doc? Some of us don't have all day to be running around the city.]

**_And if they have to go back, then apparently _none_ of us have all day to be running around._**

Tessa snorted softly. She hadn't wanted to be accompanied by bodyguards in the first place. They'd only make her task more difficult in the end, but Carlos had been insistent. She needed protection, and Neva had seconded that decision. Tess suspected that Neva's concern had more to do with keeping an eye on her to make sure she behaved rather than out of any concern for her safety, but she'd known when to stop protesting. In a civil tone, she replied, [I have two more stops to make. Don't pressure me to hurry, or I'll make mistakes, and that will make Carlos very unhappy.] She purposely used her cousin's first name to reassert her authority over this little group, even though she felt like she didn't have any at all. They were hired, she was family, and she wanted them to be aware of that. _She_ personally wanted to forget.

The guards behind her shifted uncomfortably, not liking her refusal to give way to their counsel. Tess knew what they were thinking – they were loyal, and she was on probation – but tried not to think about it.

**_Think about what? The fact that this is a test? That no matter how much Carlos protests that he trusts you without question, that if you don't come back without obtaining the needed supplies without breaking all needed secrecy, then you can kiss your life good-bye?_**

It was true. She knew it was. If she proved to be false, inept, or indiscrete, then she'd be kept outside Culíacan until her fate was decided. If she succeeded in this, then she'd be allowed to go with Carlos to his personal compound, and once there, she'd be brought into the inner circle. She'd learn what they were up to. And she'd be able to pass that information along.

If she failed, both family and government would forsake her, and she'd be left here to rot. Both in mind and body. It wasn't a pleasant thing to look forward to.

**_Why do you try, Teresa? You don't have the resources to pull off two tests at once. You don't know how to please Sands without alerting Carlos, and you can't _truly_ please Carlos without betraying Sands. You walk a dangerous line, and you're already losing your balance. You will eventually fail. Just admit it now. Run now, while you can, before you are so tangled up in your own treachery that you'll be stuck, a fly waiting for the spider of fate to finish her off._**

_Shut up!_

**_ You're already losing yourself. Do you realize that you're beginning to think in Spanish? After so many years away at school, after all the training that forced you to loose your accent, you're reverting. Do you really need more proof?_**

No, she hadn't realized that she was beginning to use her first language more and more while her English went neglected. Thinking back, she realized that she hadn't spoken English since the night that Sands had visited her in her room. She supposed that Carlos must have noticed, because he addressed her in the same tongue now. Neva had never deigned to speak English in the first place – no matter that she was completely fluent in it – but she _had_ been speaking more to Tess. _Is it because I'm no longer putting on 'airs'? Did she realize that if Father had ever caught me speaking Spanish, I would have been punished? He wanted me to sound like an American. He wanted me to sound different than everyone else._

Completely distracted by these thoughts, Tess was caught off guard when someone stepped into her path, knocking her from her feet. She fell, just barely managing to catch herself before she hit the ground. And while she'd saved herself from a major spill, her purse hadn't fared nearly so well. Its contents shot out across the sidewalk, scattering like a handful of thrown dice.

[Hey you! What do you think you're doing?] Tess looked up from the mess that'd been made into the shaded and beard-hidden face of a priest. A priest that was soon to be set on by her bodyguards. She waved them off, once again cursing Carlos' stubborn insistence that she be accompanied.

Cautiously, the man climbed to his feet, offering her a slightly begrimed hand. [Forgive me, my child. I did not see you.]

[That's alright, Padre. I'm afraid I was lost in daydreams.] She allowed him to help her up. [Are you hurt?]

[No, my child, merely rudely awakened. But it seems that I have caused you to drop your belongings.] Once he was assured that she was steady, he bent back down, collecting her nearby cell phone and a case that held several computer disks. Ones she'd been instructed to bring with her.

[It's okay.] Looking over her shoulder, she nodded to her followers, indicating that they should help the priest.

Everything was quickly gathered, and she accepted her belongings back from her ecclesial pedestrian. [You are truly a woman of great patience. I shall light a candle for you to Saint Amelia.] Tess might be a bit rusty on her knowledge of the Catholic church, but she remembered that Amelia was the patron saint of those who wished to prevent bruising and arm pain. This priest had a sense of humor, apparently.

[Thank you, Padre. I wish you a pleasant afternoon.]

[May the Lord's blessings go with you as well, my daughter.] The man quickly preformed the sign of the cross as if in benediction, then walked away.

Tess watched him for a moment before shaking her head and making her way to her next stop.

If she had watched for a bit longer, she might have noticed that the priest turned the first corner into the first alley that he came to. Sands was certainly grateful that she'd let him go so quickly. He hadn't looked forward to letting her bodyguards get their meaty hands on him. He suspected that fear of the church and divine retribution might have kept them from doing him harm, but that was only if they hadn't tried to confirm who he was.

Shaking his head, he reached into the pocket of his robe, smiling when he felt the disks there. The long, voluminous sleeves of his vestments, a bit of slight of hand, and he'd managed to switch cases on Tess, without her ever being the wiser. A pity really; he rarely got time on the field anymore. Someone always needed him to look at something, or make some sort of decision, or to confirm this, or refute that. Boring. He'd taken this assignment thinking it'd get him _out_ of the office, not into a small, dingy, cramped field office.

_But I must admit that this is a day's work well done. Even if I didn't get to rattle Tessa's nerves. There's always later for that, I suppose._

Going back into the street, Sands whistled as he walked back to the small apartment that housed the operation. There were people back there expecting more answers.

- - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - -

**Five Days Later in ****Durango****:**

[No, that will be all. Thank you.] Tess tried to close the door to her hotel room, but was foiled by the same two goons who'd been following her since her reinstatement into the cartel.

They wedged the door open with their meaty hands, fighting her to get in. [Sorry, doctor, but we've got our orders.] Gently but implacably they defeated her attempts to gain some privacy.

As they entered the room, intent on searching it, Tess caught sight of Carlos. He was lounging in the open door to his room, watching as she caused a fuss in the hallway. She lowered her head and bit her lip as she noticed the glare on his face; he was sending her a silent message to behave herself and play by the rules.

Such reprimands had become common in the past few days. They'd left Culíacan and had traveled south east to Durango. Tess didn't know what the importance of that was, other than it was almost exactly halfway between Culíacan and Guadalupe. But here they were, and here they would remain for three days before finishing the last leg of their trip. A trip that Tess hoped would prove more pleasant than this one. Stuck in a car for ten to twelve hours on end, tempers had grown short between Neva and Carlos, and Tess had simply started keeping her mouth shut since everything she said appeared to be the wrong thing _to_ say. A fact that she was often and repetitively informed of.

**_ Close quarter will prove a man's true character. By the by, how are we feeling about Carlos these days? He's not exactly the gallant he played to woo you to your side. Is he?_**

_ So much travel would stress anyone. He doesn't mean half the things he says._

Her voice was unimpressed by her efforts to defend her cousin. **_Wouldn't it be better if he _did_ mean them? It'd kill this sympathy you're beginning to have for him. Do you think you can warn him of his eminent downfall without causing your own? _**Silence . . . **_You still haven't made up your mind, Teresa Adame._**

[We're done, señora.]

[Thank you.] Still distressed over the tense situation and her sudden lack of favor, Tess entered her room and quietly shut her door behind the men.

Carlos watched his cousin disappear behind her door and sighed. Tessa said she wanted to help, to serve him and the cartel, but she'd been bucking his control. He understood that she was wary, but that was no reason for being headstrong. He was trustworthy. She just had to be persuaded of that. He'd win her over yet. Once she discovered that he only had her best interests at heart, that he only wanted her at his side as they trained the next generation of their family . . . He got ahead of himself.

Crossing the hall, he knocked on Neva's door. His sister came quickly enough, but she seemed no more pleased to see him than Tess had been to see her bodyguards. "Don't be surly," he addressed her as he entered her room.

"Perdón." The request was infused with a generous dose of sarcasm.

"Save your attitude, Neva. I need to discuss something with you."

Neva's defensiveness melted away a bit at that. Carlos had been ignoring her lately in favor of their cousin and it'd irked her. But this, this was nice. This was the way things were supposed to be – Tessa free. "What about?" As Carlos took one of the chairs, she lounged across the foot of the bed.

"Tess." Carlos noticed the ice that stiffened his sister's spine at their cousin's name. "Neva," he sighed, "please do not start. You have my trust and my faith as I am sure I have yours. What I am not so sure is that we have Tessa's, and if we're going to bring her in on this, then we have to be certain of her."

"What? You doubt her because she's obstinate? She's spoiled, Carlos. I've known her longer than you have. She's always been that way."

"No. There is more to it than that. You know there is."

Neva rolled her eyes at her brother's stubborn refusal to see the truth, but she made sure he didn't see it. "Give her a test then. Take her to that alleged businessmen's dinner that you're going to tomorrow night. If she conducts herself well, then you'll know. If she's a totally liability, then you'll know that as well."

The suggestion had merit. "You're only saying that to get out of going yourself," he accused lightly, mulling over the idea.

Neva shrugged, not denying his accusation. "Look at it this way – Tess is likely to be ever so more diplomatic than I."

- - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - -

"You're going, and that's the last I will hear of this. Get yourself dressed. We leave in an hour."

Tess hated dressing up. Really, she did. She understood that there was a time and place when it was proper to, but she'd never seen the point of making herself gorgeous when no one actually placed any value on her as a person. The only reason she was doing this now, was she knew what she risked if she blatantly disobeyed Carlos in this matter. This event was supposed to be a businessman's dinner, but he was here as the head of a powerful cartel, and apparently part of that required some sort of woman playing attendance on him. And he'd chosen her.

Since her unusually overbearing cousin had left the room, Tess threw herself down on her bed, ripping her glasses off her face, yanking the chain around her neck off. She threw both pieces of spyware across the room, determined that should she actually break down in tears, that there would be no record of it.

But the tears didn't come. She waited for twenty minutes, and they never appeared. So instead of wallowing in self-pity, she got up and unzipped the garment bag on her bed, mechanically stripping and sliding into the fancy dress.

**_I really don't know what you were expecting, Teresa._**

_ I was expecting to have more value than a peon. A silly hope, I know._ She zipped herself up. _It's just . . . Carlos seemed different. He seemed different than Father, but he's not acting that way now._

**_ Masks come off sooner or later. Just look at you._**Tess stuck out her tongue at the mirror as she applied enough concealer to cover her freckles. She wandered back into the main room, pulling her hair back with a clip. She hadn't been bothering to blow-dry it lately, so it was wavy, and liked to escape her grip before she could close the clasp. **_Go get your eyes and ears._**

_Yes ma'am._ The thought was extremely sardonic, but Tess retrieved her glasses and necklace. "Well, this is just perfect," she muttered after slipping the glasses onto her nose; the chain was broken.

"I didn't want you to wear that anyway. Silver is much too understated." Tess whirled around to look at her door – Carlos was standing there, dressed in a hand-tailored tuxedo. For the first time Tessa took note of the fact that her cousin wasn't bad looking. Men's looks weren't something she was used to observing though, so she threw the thought aside as being a severe case of the nerves or some sort of joke being pulled on her by her mind.

"I like understated," she muttered to herself, setting the necklace down. She thought she had another chain she could put the locket on, so nothing was really lost.

"Be understated tomorrow," Carlos told her, running a critical eye over her appearance. "Tonight you will be representing what is left of your family, and I will not have you hiding in the shadows and behind potted plants the entire time, understood?" She nodded. "Good."

Sighing, Tess went to her jewelry box and dug out a pair of ostentatious gold earrings. Returning to the mirror, she put them on, muttering under her breath, "I hope you're enjoying the show." She was talking to Sands, but Carlos was the one who could answer her.

"Not much of a show," he said dryly. "Take off those glasses, put in some contacts if you have to, and lets go."

_I wonder if porcelain dolls feel as empty inside as I do at the moment._ She'd glanced in the mirror in her room as she was escorted out, and she had to admit that she looked good. The black velvet-like material of her dress clung to her body and the bodice was made of black lace from the mandarin-style neck to an inch or so below the point where her cleavage started. There was a slit running up the sides to a point about four inches above her knee, and she was wearing black stockings that had a seam running up the back. Not that she'd picked any of this out – no, that had been Carlos. He had rivals to impress at this little fundraiser, and he was going all out.

_I don't see why I'm the one who has to suffer though._ There was nothing more boring than sitting around with some of societies biggest influences and most powerful people, while your 'date' conducted covert cartel business. _ Maybe if I'm lucky, shooting will break out at some point and we can leave._ She'd been hoping this was going to be easy. But it wasn't, just like nothing else had been easy about this cockamamie plan that the CIA had cooked up. If they wanted inside information, they should have sent one of their own in.

- - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - -

Tess fumed all the way to the governor's residence in Durango. The limo wound through the streets and Carlos ignored her, talking on his cell phone the entire time. He didn't sound happy, and she apathetically pitied whoever was on the other end of the line. The body guards were oppressively silent, so Tess kept her mouth shut and waited for this interminable trip to end. She looked forward to reaching some sort of permanent residence. Someplace that was small enough for her to be able to not have to worry constantly about her environment changing. And Durango, while the capital of the province, it was unknown, and that unnerved her. Perhaps if Sands were here with her . . . _That's useless thinking. So stop it._ Tomorrow they'd finally finish the trip to Carlos' preferred home, and she could relax her guard a bit.

The car stopped. A bodyguard climbed out of the front seat and came around to open the door on Carlos' side. He hung up with his contact and climbed out, offering a hand to Tess as she climbed out as well. He seemed to take pity on her, noticing that the drive had done nothing to calm her nerves. "Relax, jóvenes. You're a match for anyone here. No one will mistreat or look down on you. Just stick close and you'll be fine."

_Easy for him to say. _Tess reluctantly let him help her. Then she forced herself to play her role, holding her tiny purse in one hand and hooking one arm through Carlos'. She waited for him to give some sign as to what was going to happen next.

"Confíeme en," he whispered, escorting her into the building.

**_ Trust him,_ **her voice scoffed an hour later.

_Please. Just don't start._ Tess smiled brittlely at another sour businessman's wife. It was bad enough that she had to fake interest in all this without having to keep her mind from wandering as well. And if she simply stood around, staring off into space, people would talk; Carlos was an important business man – one who'd done a much better job of hiding his true occupation as a drug lord than her father had. But still . . . she thought that people still suspected, so she couldn't cause any talk.

People complemented Tess on her dress, her hair, her jewelry, her shoes – she wanted nothing more than to sit down. Sure, the strappy black sandals she had on _looked_ nice, but they had a three inch heal and were most definitely uncomfortable. Unfortunately, she didn't dare stray from Carlos' side until he said she could. His temper had been so short lately that she didn't know what would happen if she publicly disobeyed him.

Dinner wasn't any more enjoyable than anything else had been since the night had started. People didn't understand cooking for people on a special diet. She was supposed to be avoiding foods that would raise her dopamine level, and they were serving her the very things she wasn't supposed to eat. Pâté, lobster, foods cooked in wine and smothered in butter. _Why couldn't they serve chicken or something? I can eat that._

Tess sat at the banquet table and picked at her food as the conversation moved in eddies around her. Her mind would petrify, she'd develop gout, and admit to liking Sands out of boredom before she learned anything here. Scowling at a serving of asparagus and artichoke hearts that had been completely ruing by some sort of white sauce that stunk of garlic, she muttered, _"Man disavows, and Deity disowns me: Hell might afford my miseries a shelter; therefore hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths all bolted against me."_

_ "Excuse me?"_

_ Tess looked up to see that she'd managed to catch Carlos' attention at what was most definitely the wrong time. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."_

_ **Better than talking to the sprouts.**_

_ Better than talking to you. __Tess returned to being a pretty plaything for people to look at._

After dinner (and its chocolate rich dessert menu which she also couldn't eat) she was led out into the ballroom for dancing. _Dancing_. Tess hated dancing with a passion, and doubted that she could do it in her heels. It wasn't that she was a bad dancer or was clumsy, but the fact that it often involved being held close by total strangers.

When there was a lull in the action, Tess excused herself from her current partner, and tried to escape for a moment. She knew that Carlos would be unhappy if he noticed that she was missing, but by this time she didn't give a damn. She couldn't stand being lost in this great mass of strangers any more.

"Where are you going?" A hand on her elbow stopped her, and Tess had to fight from struggling against it.

_I should have known that he'd be watching. I've been too resistant to this entire ordeal for him to be anything other than diligent. I admit that I'm on the verge of running off, and he must know it. _But even though she'd confessed this, Tess tried to bluff her way out. "The ladies room. I have to powder my nose."

Carlos looked her in the eye as if he suspected her of having an ulterior motive. "Fine. But wait until after the next song. My associate wants to meet you."

Tess felt her face pale, but she didn't say anything. She was not going to beg to be let out of this. Carlos would only say no, and she would humiliate herself. Forcing her spine to straighten, she followed her cousin across the floor to where his newest business partner was standing.

"Teresa, allow me to introduce you to _Señor_ Giovanni Juarez." It took a Herculean effort to keep the surprise and laughter off her face, but Tess managed. "Señor, this is my cousin, Teresa Barillo." Tess allowed the man to take her hand in a lose grip as she studied him and tried to contain laughter. How had she managed to run into a man who had Sands' old alias for a name? _He's not bad looking, but he's not as attractive as Sands either._

**_Nice basis of judging looks, going by the man you're screwing after hours, and any other hours you can._**

_No one asked you._"It's a pleasure to meet you, _Señor_ Juarez."

"Please, call me Giovanni." Tess inclined her head in acknowledgement, thinking she'd never be able to do so without laughing out loud. It wasn't a normal – or sane – reaction, but then again, she was beginning to feel dangerously reckless.

The music started up again, and she cursed the small string quintet as 'Giovanni' asked her to accompany her to the dance floor. She might be feeling reckless, but she still didn't want to dance. Especially not to this music, or with this man.

_A waltz. They had to play a waltz. Even the flamenco would be better than this._ Tess followed her partner through the moves of the dance, trying to keep her body from freezing as his hands started to wander in small increments. She suddenly had the paranoid certainty about why Carlos had had her wear this dress, and she felt anger and humiliation fill her. She'd been turned over to the custody of her family by a incompetent government, and now Carlos – all protests and assurances aside – was using her to get what he wanted. She was sick of the whole mess. _Maybe the fucking CIA is going to have to find another operative, because I will **kill** myself before I have to go through that again._ The 'Giovanni' coincidence no longer seemed amusing.

Finally the music stopped, and Juarez returned her to her cousin. "Thank you for loaning me you enchanting cousin, Velasquez. I will most definitely give some thought to your proposal." With a bow, he turned to Tess, running his eyes over her form. It was all she could do to keep from losing control there and then. "Señora. I hope to experience the pleasure of your company again soon."

"Of course, señor." _On your deathbed,_ she thought pleasantly. She had to fight not to shiver.

**_You know I'll take care of you._**

_ No, you'll take advantage of me. There's a difference._

**_Yes, but if you don't know what's going on, what difference is made? I would think you'd start to trust me after all the years we've known each other. Over half your life now._**

_The gingerbread man trusted the fox to get him across the river. The fox swore not to eat him. But in the end he was still a fox, and foxes can't be trusted._

_ **Aww. That hurts.**_

****"Carlos, Giovanni, if you'll excuse me for a moment?" The men nodded, and she tried to keep her exit from looking as if she were fleeing. _But I suppose even foxes can be helpful._ If worse came to worse, she could act the madwoman.

Tess headed towards the restrooms, then turned towards the service corridors at the last moment. She needed some time alone. Her eyes were dry from the stale air inside the ballroom, her feet hurt from the shoes, her ears hurt from the elaborate gold earrings with their microchip microphones, and her head hurt from the constant chatter around her. Not to mention her very soul was heavy with foreboding over what Carlos' business with Juarez exactly included.

_I wouldn't be the first woman to be used to close a deal._ Her stomach rolled as she continued the thought. _It wouldn't even be the first time **I've** been used. But hey . . . all's fair in love and war, right?_

She didn't get an answer.

After some minutes, she managed to find her way outside into a deserted ally way. It probably wasn't the safest place to be, but Tess didn't care. She needed time alone, in the quiet, with fresh air. She gently eased the door closed, making sure it didn't shut all the way. If she got locked out, it'd take her awhile to get back inside without drawing attention to herself.

She walked further down the alley, looking around her to ensure she wasn't being followed. Once she was sure she was alone, Tess started talking under her breath. "I don't know if you caught all that, but that was Giovanni Juarez, Carlos' new business 'associate'." She mimed the air quotes. "I'm not quite sure for what, but something tells me I'll get the chance to find out real soon." She didn't know if Sands or anyone else was listening as she talked, but she knew she was being recorded in any case, so she was determined to sound as unaffected as possible. "I think Carlos has gotten it into his head that I might make a good comforter. Of course, men often like to . . . to talk during or . . . or after se . . . sex, so I might be able to learn a lot from Juarez that way." Despite her best efforts, Tess was having a hard time keeping her voice from trembling at the thought of what might be expected of her. "Of course, I have nothing to prove that's what might happen other than some significant looks, so I might be jumping the gun a little." Oh god, she hoped she was jumping the gun. She hoped she was just being extremely paranoid. She _felt_ paranoid. "That's not important at the moment however. I've only managed to slip out for a little bit, and I know I should be inside trying to overhear information, but –"

"The CIA usually isn't interested in excuses, _niña_."

Tess spun around, then fell as she forgot her unreliable footwear. However, before she could hit the ground, a strong pair of arms caught her and pulled her upright. She looked into the face of her rescuer, and wondered if she was hallucinating. It certainly looked like Sands. She raised her hands and touched his face. He felt real. But he wasn't supposed to be here. She'd thought that he'd be busy overseeing the move to Guadalupe.

Sands brushed Tessa's hands away impatiently. "What was that you were saying, _niña_?"

"Why are you here?" She didn't understand.

He saw her confusion an sighed. Why the Agency had still decided to send her here with her handicap, he still didn't know. IN a normal situation, she'd never be considered for employment. Too risky. Hut here she was, and he needed to calm her. "Here outside, or here Durango?"

"Umm . . . both? You're not supposed to be here." Tess grabbed onto that conviction as the one thing she was sure of.

Sands shrugged. "I thought you might need some backup, since you're an incompetent newbie, and I also thought the chance for some mayhem might come up."

She didn't need backup, she needed a therapist and a restraining order, but she supposed Sands would do. Her body started trembling with relief and sustained stress. She knew it was a really bad thing to be feeling right now, but she wanted nothing more than to feel Sands against her body, and more. Shielding it with his. It'd be a lie, but it was one she was willing to listen to at the moment. "What kind of mayhem did you have in mind?"

Sands felt his eyes widen a bit as he heard the rough edge of desperation and desire enter Tessa's voice. This wasn't what he'd had in mind, and if he were a good little CIA agent, he'd send her back inside this instant. _Good thing I've never been a good little agent._ Besides, there was something in her eyes that he'd never seen before and he wondered how that would affect her actions.

Her hands returned to his face, softly caressing his skin as her body edged towards his. Tremors were wracking her body, and he brought his own hands up to rest on her shoulders. Her skin was cold, colder than the night air called for. It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but it was possible that she was pale as well. Something was wrong, but no warning sirens were ringing in his head and no bodiless advice was offering itself, so he dismissed his concern. Whatever was wrong with her was her concern, not his. If she wanted to jump him here in the alley, that was fine by him.

Tess turned her head to the side as if she'd heard something, but she shook her head and looked at him, going completely still. She slowly shook her head, but Sands didn't think it had anything to do with him. Then she did something had everything to do with him. She reached down between their bodies and started touching him. He gasped as she grew bold and pulled his head down for a ruthless kiss. He was taken aback by her forwardness, but moved with her anyway. She led him across the alley to a wall, then pressed her spine against it as she pulled him against her.

Sands growled as she started nipping his bottom lip hard enough to hurt. He pulled away to scold her, but she merely moved her attention to his neck. Her unoccupied hand busied itself with unbuttoning his shirt far enough for it to slip inside and tease his chest with raspy touches from her short nails. Returning the favor, Sands slipped his hands under her skirt. She moaned, but didn't move her attention from her other activities. If anything, she became more focused.

Without any warning whatsoever, Tess reversed their positions so that he was the one leaning against the wall and she was the one pressing him back. There was a sense of desperation to her movements as she started kissing him again. Sands wondered if he should be concerned after all, but then her hand slipped down to the fly of his slacks, and he couldn't think that precisely anymore.

Some part of Tessa's mind wondered what she was doing. It screamed at her to stop and think about the reactions her motions were causing, but the part of her mind goading her on drowned it out. With a single-mindedness that she'd once reserved for her lessons, Tess let her hands search for any flesh she could reach. She could feel that he was ready to take things further, but she wasn't prepared to do that yet.

**_That's because you have no intention of going that far tonight._**

****_I don't?_ Her hands continued to tease him to mindless arousal as she paused her mind to argue with her other half. She could hear Sands groaning in the distance, but it didn't seem as real as the conversation taking place at the moment.

_ **No, why should you? Do you trust this man?**_

_ Not totally, but that's never stopped you from urging me to do this before. Why are you doing so now?_

_ **Do you want to sleep with this man?**_

****_Yes?_ The answer was uncertain. She didn't know what point her voice was trying to make.

_ **And if you ever decided that you didn't want to? What if halfway through the process you changed your mind. Would you need to fear him? You fear the other men.**_

_ But this is my choice._

**_ For how long?_**

Tess could feel her captive's hips starting to move with the rhythm she'd unconsciously set up, and more than that, she could feel a hand on her breasts and could hear her own sounds of pleasure ringing dimly in her ears. When had that happened? _I don't know._

_ **Maybe you need to find out.**_

****_How do you propose I do that?_

_ **Let him go.**_ Tess did, and moved away as Sands took a moment to recover enough to figure out why he didn't feel as good as he had.

He cursed and Tess moved further away as fear took up residence in the back of her head. What had she been thinking? What had _It_ been thinking? Even good men would be hard pressed not to force the issue after someone had taken things this far, and she wasn't convinced that Sands was entirely a good man. Or even partially a good man.

"What the fuck?" What the hell was going on?

"I need to ask you something." Sands could hear the confusion and fear in Tessa's voice, and he became cautious. She'd sounded just like this before the CIA's drugs had taken control of her that day they'd convinced her to come back to Mexico. "I'm sorry, I should have asked earlier. But I wasn't thinking clearly."

_Obviously._ "What did you want to ask, _niña_?" He tried to keep things as normal as possible, or was possibly normal for a half-undressed man. Perhaps she could still pull back from this.

"If I ever asked you to stop, would you?"

What had brought this about? Tessa's mind may function differently than everyone else's, but she usually was on the same track as what was happening around her, if on a different train. What had he heard her muttering about as he'd come up behind her earlier?

"I suppose that would depend on when you ask, _chiquita_. You're a doctor, you know there's a point of no return." He took a step towards her, but she retreated before him, scared, jumpy. He couldn't remember what he'd been saying before she mentioned that she might be jumping the gun.

"If I told you I wanted to stop now, would you?" She took another step back as he came towards her again. This had been a bad idea. A very bad idea. She really had to stop listening to her voice's ideas. "If I told you you were scaring me, would you stop?"

"That all depends, _niña_. Are you scared of me, or something else?"

He wasn't answering her questions. What did that mean? Was she supposed to know the answers already, or did he just not want to tell her? "I don't know." He came closer by another step and Tess backed into the wall.

Sands saw she was cornered and took his opportunity. He leapt forward and grabbed hold of her by her upper arms. She didn't scream or cry out, although she did stiffen in either fear or dislike. Her eyes were level with his, and he looked into them. Fear was lurking in them, and confusion, and a small amount of panic, but no madness. Perhaps she was fighting it, or perhaps it had been there and deserted her in a situation of its making. But something had set it off. Something inside the residence behind them. "Why are you asking this, Teresa? What knocked you off balance?"

She glanced around distractedly, avoiding his gaze. She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want him to know that she thought her family wanted to reduce her to the position of a common whore.

**_Why should he care? You're already whoring for him._**

****_Be quiet!_ "Nothing happened."

"You're a miserable liar, _niña_. I'd like an answer, if you please."

And if she didn't please? Would he shake the answers out of her? "Please, you're hurting me."

Sands instantly let go of her, but he didn't back off, keeping her boxed in with his presence. "Teresa."

"Carlos. Carlos and Juarez, his new partner. They're inside, and Carlos made me dance with Juarez. His first name is Giovanni, you know. I thought you might want to know that. I thought it was funny –" She stopped her own rambling, by placing a hand over her mouth. Now was not the time to fall apart.

Sands watched as she took several deep breaths, obviously pulling the shreds of her tattered control together. "I can't prove anything, but I got the feeling that . . . that I . . . I . . . he _looked_ at me, and he was touching me, and there were lots of people around, and I had to get out. Then you surprised me . . . ." Her voice trailed off. "I'm sorry." She shuffled her feet and lost her balance again, swaying in her place.

Sands hissed as she brushed against his desire sensitized body. She froze and looked up into his face – desire was still there behind the analytical mask he was wearing. She knew he wouldn't be adverse to finishing what they'd been doing. But was she?

"Sands? You never answered my question." Her hands came up to rest on his arms, stroking distractedly over the fabric. "Would you ever . . . ?"

"I've never had to resort to rape yet, _conejo_."

"But if I asked you to stop?"

"Have I forced you to do anything yet tonight? Besides answer my questions?" She shook her head. "I can't promise you anything more than you can promise me. Is that enough for you to work with?"

She thought about it. He was being honest with her – she could see that. And while his words weren't particularly comforting, they were a bit reassuring. For tonight at least. And tomorrow night she'd be back inside the 'loving arms' of her family. "Yes."

She let Sands take the lead this time, kissing him back when he demanded a reaction, relaxing when he didn't. She could feel her sense of awareness slipping away again, but she let it go without a fight. This was natural, something that happened to everyone during intercourse. This wasn't part of mind stealing away her control. No, this time Sands was the thief, and she welcomed him.

Release rushed through her faster than she had thought it would, and soon her skirt was up around her waist and Sands was. . . . _Oh díos._ He raised one of her legs to wrap around his hips after making sure she wouldn't accidentally set off any of his guns. Tess was soon moaning again; one of Sands' hands came up to anchor her hips and steady her on her feet. His hips were helping to hold her up as they moved together.

"Do you trust me? Do you trust me right now?" Sands' voice was breathless in her ear, and it took her a moment to decipher what he'd said. When she did, she nodded, humming in delight and agreement. "Let go." His words lit a fuse within her that caused numerous explosions inside her body. Her ears were just stopping their ringing, when his release flooded her with almost the same force as her own. She whimpered as he pulled her up on her toes as he found completion. She'd have bruises in the morning most likely, but it was worth it.

For several long minutes they stood standing in the same position, Tess clinging to Sands with a leg draped over his hips, Sands with his head buried in the crook of her neck. But time did eventually intrude, and they parted, righting their clothes, and Tess trying to make some order of her hair.

That's when all hell broke lose.

- - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - -

**Quotes:** William Cowper

**Author's Thanks:** thanks go to . . . . **Merrie** (stubborn is good. Without stubborn, I'm not sure I'd have a plot.); **C.J. Davis** (I feel like I'm juggling characters sometimes, and not really spending enough time with any of them, but I'm glad you like how I'm managing to touch on everyone.); **Isola** (Never seen 'Gladiator', but I hear it's good. Yes, I love writing stuff between Tess and Sands – it's fun and frustrating at the same time. Thanks for the reassurance that I'm sticking to my own standards. It's hard to tell sometimes after you've struggled with a chapter for weeks on end.); **normal human being** (week from hell. hums 'From' and 'hell' are dangerous words to use around me at the moment because I'm on the edge of starting a 'From Hell' fic. ; ) And not a cliffie? How can I hold my head up? I hope this is soon in your book, because it certainly is in mine.); **Cayenne Pepper Powder** (Tessa's life is messed up . . . but I wouldn't have nearly as much fun if it weren't.); **Dreamgirl22147** (Jealousy . . . at least in its first stages. Can't have Sands getting full-blown jealousy yet. He's not ready to admit that much, and Tess isn't ready to accept it. The relationship will definitely change, I'm just not sure how yet.); **Shannon** (I'm always glad to hear from first time reviewers. It encourages me that I've got more than the same 'X' amount of people reading. I promise I will not stop writing until I've finished this story. And perhaps my other one. And the idea that won't leave my head. How's that?); **theScarlettWeasel** (I'm glad to be back : P)


	12. Impulse

**Author's Note: well, this took awhile to get up, but I managed. What actually took me the most time was figuring out what kind of hell broke loose, and after that, things just kinda flowed together. In spurts. If that makes sense.**

**Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you're all thinking.**

* * *

Tess had just settled her skirt properly when the door she'd escaped through earlier flew open. It very nearly hit the wall, and would have if it hadn't been for a cardboard box behind it. She and Sands both assumed that the eight men who came out the door were some of Carlos' men, and that they'd been sent to find her; Sands stepped back into the shadows and Tess stepped forward to draw attention to herself. [I'm sorry for disappearing, but –]

[There she is! Shoot!]

Before Tess could react to that order, guns appeared in several hands. She recoiled, knowing she wouldn't get away before they'd manage to hit and probably kill her, but instinct demanded she do something. Her brain seemed to suddenly focus, making each event, each motion, crystal clear and twice as sharp. The men fired and she half-spun, seeking shelter or escape. Her heels wobbled under her. She fell to the ground. A hand appeared around her arm. A blaze of fire exploded into bright existence on her ribcage. She cried out at the pain and at the pain of pavement tearing at her shins as someone pulled her behind a pile of crates. A hunk of cold metal was pressed into her hands, and she dropped it.

"Damn it, conejo, take the gun."

Sands' voice and rough handling broke Tess out of her mental paralysis. She took hold of the pistol he was pressing into her hands again, and moved from her sprawl into a crouch. Adrenaline was coursing through her body, numbing the pain of her wound for the time being. Bullets were still coming at them, filling the air with sawdust and wood chips. "We can't stay here," she told him, after firing off a few rounds at the men trying to apparently kill her.

"Shoot to kill, niña, not to wound." Sands didn't acknowledge her – completely valid – concern. He knew they were going to have to move soon, but they'd have to take down a few men first. "When I tell you to run, take off down the alley. Take a left, and then a right," he instructed as two screams indicated that at least two of their bullets had found a target. "There should be another agent waiting there." He fired off another round and smiled grimly as one man went down.

Tess managed to take care of another man – purposefully wounding him instead of killing him – before asking, "What about you?" A heavy barrage of gunfire made her stoop and protect her head. The time for debate was gone.

"I can take care of myself. You're the one they're after." Sands picked off two more men, his satisfaction dying when he saw that there were now nine men standing and firing at them. The realization that they were getting reinforcements hit him hard and low. "Go, niña," he ordered, pushing her towards the back of the alley. She didn't move. "Get your ass in gear _now_, chiquita. That's an order."

"Give me a minute," she replied hotly. "I can't run in these shoes." Her fingers nimbly worked the small buckles. Kicking off the heels, she gathered her skirt in one hand and used the other to help her push off.

Glad now that she'd picked up jogging again, she sprinted towards the back of the alley, shoes and skirt in one hand, gun in the other. Bits of gravel dug into the soles of her feet and her side burned, but she kept running. She didn't bother to turn back and fire at the men that were sending bullets perilously close to her, knowing that the split second turning her head would take could mean the difference between being able to eat breakfast the next morning or not.

Turning the corner, she paused to catch her breath. After several ragged gasps, she heard the sound of footsteps pounding, coming after her. She didn't bother to wait and see if it was Sands or not. She took off running again, taking shelter in a recessed doorway. The man passed her, and she caught a glimpse of someone tall, in a suit. _Not Sands._ She held her breath as the footsteps slowed; apparently her pursuer noticed that he'd lost his prey. She could hear him turning around, searching for some trace of her. Raising her gun to her chest, she closed her eyes and waited for some sound that would indicate whether this was a bad guy or the other CIA operative. The clue she needed came in the form of muttered, unaccented Spanish. _Bad guy._ Peeking around the doorway, she saw that the man's back was turned towards her. She stepped out, knocking some gravel off the doorstep of her perch.

The man heard the sound, and whirled around, his arm rising to fire. She pulled the trigger of her gun without thinking, watching as the force of the bullet made the man stagger back, a dark stain spreading over the fabric of his light colored suit coat. He collapsed, and she dropped her gun, in shock. While she'd seen dozens of people die – at the hands of her family, on the operating table, in post-op, from gunshots – she'd never actively killed anyone herself. Her essential self was revolted by her actions, prompting her to approach the man and see if there was anything she could do. She was a doctor. She'd just broken the oath she'd taken when she'd graduated.

_Do no harm,_ she thought desperately as she searched for a pulse. Her patient – _Victim_ – patient wasn't breathing, but he still had a pulse. It was thready and fading, but it was better than nothing. Tipping his head back, she started mouth-to-mouth, one part of her mind observing, one part praying, and one part trying to make her stop.

**_There's nothing you can do, Teresa. It was self-defense. He was going to kill you. There'll be more coming, and they won't care that you're on some sort of guilt prompted mission of mercy. They'll gun you down without batting an eye. Get out of here. Go. Now._**

_ He'll die. I can't leave._ Despite her efforts, her patient was slipping away. "No, damnit," she whispered, taking another breath before once again lowing her mouth to his, desperately pushing air into his lungs. Her side complained loudly, and she could feel blood soaking a larger and larger portion of her dress, but she couldn't stop. She had enough blood on her hands without adding his.

Thinking these thoughts, she never heard the several sets of footsteps that were rapidly getting closer to her.

* * *

Sands had moved from behind the pile of now holey crates to behind a large dumpster. The metal was standing up to the constant abuse ever so much better than wood had, and he was able to take a position under it and just pick off Tessa's assailants one by one – including the men she'd left alive. In the shadows he was nearly invisible in his dark clothes, and so crammed between the street and the bottom of the dumpster that hitting him was nearly impossible. Still, he was glad he was far enough bad to avoid most of the chips of pavement that were being blown out of the street.

But even with his advantages, five men were able to slip off before he could get them. _Shit,_ he cursed to himself, dragging his body out from under his smelly refuge. He now smelled of rotted and decaying food, and he couldn't just let those men go. He had no reason to believe that Tess had actually met up with the extra agent he'd brought with him, and those thugs had taken the same turn she had. And he didn't for one second believe that was by coincidence.

Breaking into a run, he chased them, cursing as dust from cement and woodchips stung his eyes, making them water enough to blur his vision. He didn't have a problem with running through the dark, but if he tripped over something at this speed, he'd really hurt himself. Not to mention that it might cost him the operation, and he couldn't afford another failure like that. It might not cost him his job, but it'd certainly put him behind a desk, and he'd rather resign than let that happen.

**_And Tess?_**

_ Tess insists she can take care of herself._ He turned the corner.

**_ Yes, but the only way for the operation to fail is for her to die or be caught._**

Sands didn't reply to that. Instead he put his concentration into increasing his speed. He was gaining on the thugs, but he'd seen something else – two people huddled on the ground, one most definitely alive, but not for long if it was who he thought it was.

He'd raised his gun to fire when he saw another figure, running towards them from the other end of the alley. Recognizing the reflective strips on the person's sneakers, he yelled, "Weyhauser, Newman, get her out of here!" Three of the goons turned and opened fire, two kept running.

Sands managed to take one down before having to take shelter in a doorway. Three gunshots from farther away made him smile grimly – Weyhauser was a good shot in the dark. Almost better than Sands himself was. Ready just to get this over with, Sands closed his eyes and listened for the two that were on his tail. They were honing in on him. Shaking his head, he checked his cartridge and replaced it when he saw he was out of ammo. Then he shrugged, and stepped out into the street. Firing off two quick rounds, he watched as the two goons fell, followed by a third who'd appeared out of nowhere. He spun, flipping off Weyhauser who was giving him a cocky grin because he'd finished off his men first.

"Where's Barillo?" he asked impatiently, swearing that if Tess had gotten herself killed, he was going to make her very sorry.

Newman, a first year agent pointed over her shoulder. "She's over there trying to resuscitate a dead man. I tried to get her to stop, but she fought me tooth and nail."

Sands sighed, and holstered his gun. "Newman, keep watch and check some of these bastards for ID. This is the second time someone's tried to get rid of her. I want to know if we're dealing with the same people or someone new." He turned to the gun happy Weyhauser. "You're on body detail. Get rid of as many of the corpses around the back door to the residence as fast as you can. I don't want this looking as if Barillo has her own posse of gun-toting angels.

His two underlings grimaced, but fished several latex gloves out of their pockets. They slipped them on and got to work.

Confident that the other agents knew what they were doing, Sands approached Tess. She wasn't trying to give the dead man mouth-to-mouth anymore, but she appeared to be frantically searching for a pulse and performing some sort of butchered form of CPR on the man.

Sands crouched down across from her, wondering if he had time to wait for shock to kick in, and decided probably not. He was surprised that no security guards had appeared yet at the ruckus that'd been caused, but he didn't believe that they'd be so incompetent as to ignore it forever. He believed that even less when it came to Tessa's family. Someone was going to come searching, and they were going to have to find her, but he didn't really want to leave her like this. Who knew what she could say in this state. It'd be a risk to the security of the operation.

Grabbing her wrists, Sands hung on grimly as Tessa did indeed fight tooth and nail. She was incoherently reciting what he thought was the Hippocratic Oath – he couldn't be sure because half of it was in Latin – mixed in with various recriminations and other words and phrases he couldn't decode. Unwilling to put up with her state of hysteria, he released one of her arms and slapped her sharply across the face.

Tess froze at the stinging pain that blossomed on her cheek. Her eyes focused on the dead man she was bent over, and she realized that there was nothing she could do for him. Moving slowly and carefully, as if she were an old woman with old, arthritic joints, she sat back on her heels. "I didn't mean to kill him," she whispered, more to herself than to Sands. Sands wasn't even sure she knew he was there. "I didn't mean to kill him."

"It was you or him, niña, and I for one am glad to see that all my extra training kicked in. If it hadn't, you could have single-handedly ruined my career." Tess looked up at him then, her eyes full of revulsion. "Don't give me that look, pequeña; you know I'm a selfish bastard."

She jerked her hand away from him. "This was a person," she hissed. "This –"

"This was a man who was trying to kill you. I understand how hard the first kill can be, but you can't afford to go to pieces right now. We've got to concoct an explanation for this, and then you've got to get back inside." In Sands' opinion, the best way to defeat shell-shock was to ignore it altogether. But he could see that Tess refused to do that; her eyes kept darting down to the face of the man she'd killed.

Pulling her to her feet with a sigh, Sands led Tess away, steadying her as she wobbled drunkenly on her feet. "Damn it, niña, you're much too stoic," he cursed her as he felt the warm patch of dampness on her side. "Newman, gimme that flashlight." The woman handed it over, and he shined it on Tessa's side. He was relieved to find that she didn't have a bullet lodged in her side, but the wound was bad enough. A passing bullet had torn a chunk of flesh from her side, and it was bleeding enough to be described as profusely.

"Go tear a piece from that man's jacket – and try to make sure that it isn't covered in dirt," Sands directed his agent. To Tess he said, "New plan. You're going to the hospital to get that looked at, and Carlos will receive a mysterious tip as to where you are."

Tess glared at him; he was being overbearing and he'd made her acutely aware of her bloody side. "Bad plan. I go back to Carlos and you disappear. That's how this is all supposed to play out anyway." Without flinching, she took the cloth pad from Newman and pressed it against her side. "Now, be a good little agent, and scurry off before you can get caught. I'll be fine." As if to second her, raised voices came echoing down the narrow walls of the alley. _A search party,_ she thought. "Go on. I do know a thing or two about keeping myself out of trouble."

Sands heard the voices as well, but he was reluctant to leave for some reason. "Niña –"

"Leave, Sands."

Her voice and her eyes were level, the same tone she'd used to calm him once upon a time when he couldn't see. He hated her for using it now, but common sense overruled whatever it was that was keeping him here. He motioned to his companion, and they left. If Sands glanced back, it could simply have been because he wanted to check for pursuers.

Not that he'd heard any.

* * *

"Teresa?"

Tess heard her name being called, but she didn't pay attention. She was sitting on a doorstep in the alley still, her eyes locked on the man she'd killed. Since Sands had left, she'd been trying to convince herself that she'd shot in self-defense . . . but she knew how to disable a man if she had to without killing him. Everything in her revolted against the thought that it had been an accident.

There were no accidents, she'd never believed in them. She'd seen her father engineer accidents to benefit almost any sort of agenda. If she'd killed this man, it was through some weakness of her own. "The blood will out," she muttered. "La sangre hacia fuera." That's all there was to it. She'd sought redemption in Sands, but it hadn't been enough. Back under the influence of her family, she understood that the only way to set herself free was to either accept what her blood made her, or to somehow kill the life that had made her what she was. And she didn't know what choice she would make.

"Teresa?" Carlos' men had found her, and he'd rushed to her side. He didn't know what she was doing out here, if she'd been the target, or if she'd simply stumbled over factions of dueling gangs, but she certainly wasn't well. Reaching down, he took her hands and started chafing them when he felt how cold they were. "Teresa, what happened here?"

She heard the question, but her eyes were still locked on the dead body. "When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical may be madness. To surrender dreams, this may be madness. To seek treasures where there is only trash. . . . Too much sanity may be madness, and maddest of all is to see life as it is and not as it should be." Pulling away, she got up and walked over to the corpse. With gentle fingers she closed his eyes. She then crossed herself, knowing she was doing it more for her own comfort than as any last rites for him. "Ahora ruegue para nosotros y sobre la hora de nuestra Muerte." _Pray for us now and in the hour of our death._

Turning away, she let Carlos lead her away, back to the limo that was waiting at the entrance to the alley. Her cousin apparently knew a cartel or gang hit when he saw one. She just wished that she would stop being the focus of such attention.

She hadn't asked for this, but she couldn't simply turn away now. One way or another she had to see this through.

* * *

"Here, drink this."

Tessa's nostrils flared at the strong, acrid scent of alcohol. She tried to turn her head, but couldn't escape the glass that was pressed against her lips. Annoyed that she wasn't being left alone, Tess shoved at the hand holding the glass. The liquid sloshed and splashed into her lap, but she didn't care. This wasn't her dress anyway. "Stop," she muttered.

Encouraged by the fact that his cousin was finally speaking, Carlos set down the small goblet he'd been holding. "You had me worried, querida," he murmured, taking the seat across from her in the limo. "I thought you were just going out to powder your nose." He'd been furious when he hadn't been able to find her, but that emotion had quickly turned to worry when she hadn't even been in the building. He knew his cousin was feeling trapped and was testing her boundaries, but he also knew she wouldn't run. It wasn't her style. Well, there _had_ been those attempts when she'd been a child . . . and right after her disastrous four-hour marriage . . . but those were extreme circumstances. She didn't run out on dinner parties.

"I needed some fresh air," she mumbled. Her fingers twitched at the memory and she gasped in pain.

Carlos reached over and pulled her hand away from her side. Her hand was covered in blood, and the wound itself was raw and angry looking. "My god, Tessa, what happened? How did you get involved in a gunfight?" He glared as she turned her face away from him. He needed answers from her. An attack on her was an attack on him.

Tessa gasped as her chin was seized in a strong grip and her head was wrenched around until she was facing Carlos.

"What the _infierno_ happened out there, Teresa?" he demanded, giving her head a small shake.

"I-I don't know," she said, her voice shaking at this display of temper. She'd known that Carlos had one, but this was the first time he'd ever been rough with her. "I went outside to get a breath of air and t-to compose myself before I shamed myself . . . and before I knew it, a bunch of men came out the same way I had. I assumed they were your men, but they started firing at me. One of them must have hit me," she whispered, trying to pull away to look at her wound, but Carlos held her firmly.

"And then what happened?"

Tess was silent for a moment, trying to think of how to explain herself without revealing herself. "A-another gang came out of nowhere. A r-real gang, not people who looked like cartel. They started firing at the men who . . . who were trying to get me. I think they – the other gang – were upset because the h-hitmen," the word was hard to say, "were on their territory."

Carlos let her go, convinced for the moment that she was telling the truth, or at least the truth as she knew it. "How bad is your injury, jóvenes?" he asked, his tone now soft since he'd gotten some of the answers he'd wanted. "I think that it's best that we get you to my home in Guadalupe, but if we need to take you to the hospital, we'll stop."

"Can you turn on the light?" she asked, subdued and somewhat cowed by his display earlier. He did, and she twisted awkwardly to look at the rent in her side. It was still bleeding, but not as quickly as it had been. "Do we have a first aid kit?" she asked, her voice still soft.

"Then you can tend to it yourself?"

She nodded, and efficiently did so, even though her hands were trembling. When she was done, she just sat in her seat and watched her hands tremble like leaves in the autumn wind. _Fall in __New York__ is beautiful,_ she thought irrationally. That thought brought to mind mental snapshots of her makeshift family. _How are they doing without me,_ she wondered desperately. _I should ask Sands to find out for me._ Homesickness slammed into her hard enough to make her entire body shake. She wanted to be _home_. She wanted to be teaching. She wanted to be reading bedtime stories, and finding lost shoes, and picking up stray toys.

_I don't want to be here._ Anger accompanied that thought. It grew swiftly. Quickly and gleefully it found a target – Sands. This was all his fault. She didn't belong here – she never had. He'd betrayed her after all she'd done for him.

**_You still trust him though, you little fool._**

_You're right. . ._ The anger turned to self-loathing. _I do._

**_And that's not going to change is it?_**

_No. Our fates are too closely entwined for things to be any other way._Her voice raged against that statement, but Tess bottled it up. It was true. She'd let herself be tied to Sands, and she couldn't free herself until this mission was done. And even then she didn't know how she would. If she could. She had the distinct feeling that Sands was going to be the one calling the shots . . . always. It was a dismal realization, one that made her eyes start to water.

Carlos had been watching as Tess had fallen silent, apparently thinking. When she started crying though, he decided that the night had been too much for her. He moved to sit beside her, and wrapped an arm around her. "Shh, querida, shh. You're safe here. Just get some rest. We'll drive through the night and tomorrow we'll be home."

Tess accepted his comfort, leaning against him heavily, even as she hated herself for it.

**_Don't trust another man!_ **the voice screeched.

_I won't . . . but for tonight I need to pretend,_ she thought back, her eyelids closing. Pretend that her family actually cared for her. Pretend that they always had. She sighed, knowing she was still fooling herself. That's not what she really wanted to pretend. What she wanted . . . .

What she wanted was for the arms around her and the chest underneath her to belong to another man altogether.

* * *

**A secluded villa outside of Guadalupe:**

It'd been a long week for everyone.

After driving for twelve hours straight, Tess and Carlos had reached his home in the dry foothills around Guadalupe. They'd made a brief stop in larger Zacatecas where one henchman had bought her some clean clothes and another a large amount of the more common medical supplies. If she was going to be stuck out here with just Carlos and dozens of men on the payroll for awhile, then she wanted to have something to do.

But despite this planning, she'd had several days of sitting around and waiting for Neva and the rest of the group to catch up with them. Carlos ignored her for the most part except to insist that she join him for dinner each night. Otherwise, he was busy making plans that she knew nothing about and with trying to find out more about the attack on her.

In the absence of anything constructive to do, Tessa caught up on her sleep and a pile of long unread medical journals. When she wasn't making inventories or reading, she was locked away in the small office that was attached to the in-house infirmary, busily typing away on her computer. She sent requests for information about the town she was now in, for who might be a likely contact for her for government and black market purposes, a request that someone check in on her family and tell her how they were doing . . .

Each e-mail was met with silence. She talked to herself, muttering under her breath at whoever was on the other end of her bugged jewelry. She sincerely hoped it was Sands, since he was the one running things and if her handlers were being uncommunicative, it was on his orders.

When Neva came, Tess was glad for that at least. The two cousins didn't really speak to each other, but at least Tess now had her belongings and her supplies. She set up the infirmary the way she wanted it – uncluttered and pristine – and unpacked her bags.

She re-read several of her favorite books that were in Carlos' library.

She ate dinner with her family, completely silent as Neva and Carlos discussed business.

She sat around and argued with herself for hours on end out of pure boredom.

She got more and more irritated with Sands.

Sands on the other hand, was beyond busy. He'd set up shop in a dirty, but otherwise unoccupied tenement on the edge of town. He and the five agents he had with him in Guadalupe worked around the clock, setting up surveillance systems, securing phone lines, and writing reports.

For three days he was called to Zacatecas to meet with a CIA liaison officer to account for the shoot-out in Durango. All evidence had pointed to another cartel – the Merída cartel – that happened to be in control of the drug trade in Guadalajara and its surrounding areas. Somehow they had gotten wind of Carlos' plans to take over their territory and they'd gone on the offensive. The reports of the agent in Guadalajara said that Neva had originally been the first target since she was in charge of security for the Barillo cartel, but she'd been judged too inaccessible. Then someone had suggested the newest member of the inner circle – Teresa Barillo was weak, exposed, and valued by Velasquez. She made the perfect messenger to get their point across.

Sands didn't know whether to count himself lucky that he'd been there to bail Tess out or disappointed. Such a strike against Velasquez would have prompted immediate retaliation, an action they could ill afford since they were still too weak to come out of any confrontation without seriously weakening their infrastructure. It would have been easier for other cartels to pick them off. But despite the logic of this train of thought, Sands couldn't really stomach it.

For a single heart-stopping, knee-weakening moment, he realized just how stupid he was being. Since when had a single woman become more important than his career? Than his goals? Than his well-being? He'd cursed, accepting that Tess had become a weakness he needed to keep close until he could get rid of her. She'd become a liability, a blind spot. He needed to deal with her. He needed to control her.

On the eighth day since arriving at Carlos' villa, Tessa woke up, aware of a soft buzzing noise. She looked around her room, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. She didn't like it, it was annoying her.

After several minutes of searching, she discovered the source of the annoyance. Someone had messed with the settings on her cell phone so that when she got a text message, the phone would vibrate. It'd been rattling against a small wooden box on her bookcase. Picking it up, she scowled at the small color screen. Oblivious to her glare, it reflected nothing more than an address back at her: 3850 calle Arena. It was more than enough to let Tess know whom the message was from.

Mumbling to herself about what the rules of polite society dictated, she got dressed quickly in jeans and an ivory blouse. She pulled her hair back into a pony tail as she left the room, doing her best to avoid notice. If there was one thing that she didn't want, it was to be followed to her meeting. She had a meeting with Mr. Arena himself.

_Sands,_ she thought disgustedly. _Only Sands would arrange to meet on a street that bears his name. Arrogant prick._

She had a bit of a hassle getting off the grounds. Carlos men didn't want to let her leave without double-checking with him to make sure it was alright. Tess on the other hand didn't want Carlos to know she was leaving, or he'd insist that she take body guards. Since the attack on her the week before, he'd become even more protective, and while that was nice, it was also extremely inconvenient.

After a bit of fast talking and some random quotes thrown in just for the confusion, Tess managed to convince the men that she had Carlos' permission to go out by herself.

Free at last, Tess sped down the road in the coup she'd borrowed. It'd been awhile since she'd driven a stick, so she didn't drive any faster than she thought she could control the vehicle . . . which was still fast enough that she felt as if she were actually leaving her problems behind.

She didn't bother thinking about the one she was face.

Or the one that would be waiting for her when she got back to the villa.

Driving into Guadalupe, she found a public parking lot. She paid the small fee to park the car, then started walking. She walked for a good half hour – some petty part of her wanting to make Sands wait as long as she could make him before turning up on his doorstep – but the thought that Carlos might come after her or send men after her eventually prompted Tessa into motion.

Some mile or so from where she'd parked the car, she stepped off the curb slightly and hailed a cab. They were surprisingly numerous for a smaller town, but she didn't bother wasting brain power thinking about it. She had other things to think about.

As she'd walked, her anger at Sands had grown. She didn't appreciate being treated like an unwanted but ultimately useful tool. Of course, Tess knew better than to expect something like respect from Sands, but she _did_ expect him to at least make his attempts at using her a bit harder to see. She knew from long experience that he was manipulative and untrusting, but . . .

_But it still hurts that he doesn't at least think I'm smart enough to know when my intelligence is being insulted._

**_ A ventriloquist doesn't respect his dummy,_ **her voice sniped at her. It was equally as pissed off as she was, but it seemed to be upset with both her and Sands.

_ Well excuse me,_ she thought harshly._ But I've come to expect a higher level of underhandedness from him. This is just sloppy._

[Senora?] Tessa looked up from her musings. [We're there.] She looked out her window and saw a rutted street lined with disreputable apartment buildings. [Are you sure this is where you want to be dropped off?]

[Yes, thank you.] Digging in her purse, Tess managed to find enough money to pay her fare.

Tess got out of the car, her sneakers crunching in the gravel beneath her feet. Slowly she walked towards the building marked with the address she wanted. A flea-bitten cat walked out of a nearby alley, and upon seeing her, ran the other way. For some reason Tess identified with that mangy feline . . . but the part of her mind spoiling for a confrontation with Sands was stronger.

Her anger renewed as she remembered it, Tess boldly walked up to the door of the building and let herself in. She looked around the deserted lobby, and spotted an attendant, or the manager, or whoever, locked away behind what was probably bullet-proof glass.

Stalking over, her face perfectly emotionless, she told the man, [I'm looking for Giovanni Tirado. Can you tell me what room he's in?] Her tone didn't leave any room for the man to say that he couldn't just give out information like that to strangers, and the look on her face warned him against stalling. He quickly gave her the room, and she nodded her thanks.

Within a minute or two, she was on the fifth floor of the tenement. She'd taken the stairs since she didn't exactly trust elevators not to break and send her hurtling to her death. The exertion made her heart speed up; her blood pounded in her veins, her anger automatically reacting. She knew she should probably allow her temper to cool before finding Sands since her grip on her emotions had never been that strong, but she didn't. She _wanted_ to yell, and rage, and say what she felt. She hadn't for weeks and weeks on end, not even to a diary since that could be found by Carlos or one of her overly attentive guards.

Pausing in front of the door that the manager had said belonged to Sands, she knocked harshly. It took several seconds for anyone to answer the door, and her foot tapped in impatience as she heard voices on the other side of the door. This was not improving her temper.

Finally the door opened a crack, and part of a face she didn't recognize examined her. She fumed. The person turned to consult what sounded like an entire group of people, and Tess got fed up.

Letting her temper flare in a rare show of strong emotion, Tess shoved the door open and stepped into the room. Several pistols immediately appeared in several hands, and just as immediately lowered as the agents realized who she was. She glared at them disdainfully, her eyes moving from figure to figure until she found the one she wanted.

The object of her rage was standing by the windows, cell phone attached to his ear. Her eyes narrowed.

"Ms. Barillo –"

"Adame," she snapped at the unfortunate person who tried to address her.

"Ms. Adame," the young man corrected himself. "Can we help you?"

"Well, you can tell that _híbrido_ to get off the phone for starters," she said, her voice silky smooth and threatening.

Sands looked up from his conversation. "There's no need for name calling, niña. Don't get your panties in a twist." Whoever was talking to him grabbed his attention again, he returned to ignoring her.

Tess felt something inside her snap, sending icy heat washing through her body. She leaned against the door and waited for him, well aware that if she got him in a room alone with her she'd probably kill him. As far as she was concerned, it would be worth the trouble she'd get into for it.

Sands took his time talking to the lead agent in Guadalajara, having noticed that Tess seemed to be overwrought. He had no desire to be around a hysterical female, so he allowed her the time she needed to cool down. When he finally hung up, he noted with some satisfaction that the strain that'd been on her face earlier was gone. There was not a wrinkle of emotion anywhere on her face, so he deemed it safe to talk to her. "Niña, I wasn't expecting you until this afternoon at least."

"I snuck out," she said, her words short and crisp. "If you wanted to talk to me, let's just get it over with."

Sands shrugged. "Fine."

He crossed the room and opened the door, gesturing for her to precede him out. His display of manners only made Tess suspicious, but she did step through the doorway. He was about to follow her out, but an agent stopped him, her hand full of a sheaf of papers. Tess saw that, and immediately thought, _Oh no you don't._ She laid a hand on the other woman's arm, and softly said, "Scram." And while her voice may have been soft, her eyes were anything but.

Sands on the other hand watched in amusement as Tess drove the older woman off. His amusement only grew as she turned her icy gaze on him. His silence had upset her, had it? Well good. She needed to be reminded who was in control of the game, and ultimately of her. He needed to stop her rash decisions – like the decision to get a breath of fresh air without someone around to keep an eye on her – and while his methods over the past week had been crude, they'd also been effective apparently. The temptation to offer Tess his arm to escort her into the room next door was strong, but he managed to resist. There was a difference between making someone mad and pushing them over the line. The difference was control, and he intended on keeping control of the conversation.

Tess walked in icy silence to the room down the hall that apparently belonged to Sands. She waited as he unlocked the door, and stood her ground as he took a seat. Not bothering to ask if she minded or not, he lit a cigarette, then looked up at her indolently. "Are you going to have a seat?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"No thank you." The words came out of her mouth as sharp and brittle as shards of glass.

Sands shrugged as if to say, "Suit yourself," and took another lazy drag on his cigarette.

Silence reigned heavily in the small room as Tess fumed and Sands waited for her patience to break. For her to break.

However, she was more stubborn than he'd counted on. After five minutes had gone by without either one saying in anything, Sands opened conversation with a gambit that was sure to make her fume. "Was there something you wanted, pequeña? Or did you just want to see me?"

The voice of her anger screeched in frustration as he pretended ignorance to why she was here. She wanted to voice the exclamation as well, but managed to get a grip on herself. "Why don't you tell me?" she asked. "For some reason I thought you were the man who had all the answers. Unless of course, your silence over the past week was due to ineptitude and not a perverse need to control every one and everything in your general vicinity."

Critically, Sands observed that her little speech had sounded rehearsed. "Been thinking about what you would say to me when you finally got summoned?" he asked, more to himself than to her. "Perhaps I let you sit for too long."

**_Kill him._** The thought appeared in her head almost as simply as an observation about the time of day. **_Kill him and have done with it. No one would actually miss him._** Part of her whispered that she would, but she ignored the traitorous suggestion.

"Perhaps you can't get off without making yourself feel as if you actually control what people do," she retorted.

The bite in her voice surprised Sands. "Regretting letting me close?" he asked.

"No. What I'm regretting is bringing you home for me in the first place. I could have avoided a good deal of –" _heartache_, "– complications if I hadn't."

That was hitting low. "You've got no one to blame but yourself, niña. It's not my fault you have a heart."

_I won't for much longer at the rate you're going._ "I hate you," she hissed. "I should have let you bleed to death. I should have never taken you back to the states. When you were blind –" Faster than she could have believed possible, Sands had leapt up from his seat and thrown her against the wall.

She fought the urge to let her legs crumple beneath her and stubbornly stayed standing. Shaking her head, she cleared the stars that'd been the result of the back of her head slamming into the wall. Able to see again, she looked at Sands, seeing that she'd managed to provoke his temper to the point where he was controlled by it instead of things being the other way around.

Sands stared at her, feeling his control evaporating. This was why he didn't let others to get close to him. No one knew better than he did how cruel people could be, and while Tess was remarkably restrained when it came to hurting others with her words, she'd just demonstrated that she could contend with the best of them.

It only took two steps for him to reach her. One hand wrapped around her arm, the other around the hand she tried to use to defend herself. Stepping close to her, enough that their bodies were touching from top to toe, he whispered in a low voice, "Must I remind you just how much you are at my mercy, Tessa? That I could kill you before you were aware I was even in the room with you? That I could send an anonymous tip to your cousin?" Her blue eyes stared up at him. He could see her rage building again at his treatment. "You wouldn't the only one who had someone's life in their hands. I could have killed you before, chica, and I could easily do so now. Don't press me."

"You're despicable," she hissed. "You're nothing more than a brute with a badge. You're just like my father."

He couldn't help it. Without a single thought, his grip on her slender wrist tightened enough to make her bones creak. He could see the pain in her eyes, but she kept it out of her voice.

"You both bully, and intimidate, and manically have to control every aspect of any life you find useful." Her eyes were hot with anger. "And neither of you give a damn for the people who might care for you under other circumstances. You poison every relationship you start, but you blindly declare yourself a loner . . . a leader . . . a visionary. You're pitiful and I pity you both."

There was nothing Sands could say to that. To deny it would mean he was upset by her words. To hurt her further would admit that they'd hurt _him_. Disgusted by her words and his reaction to them, Sands released her, taking a grim pleasure in the way she dropped to the floor without his support.

Tess looked up at him from her position on the floor, amazed that he'd simply let her go. But his next words destroyed any belief that she had that they might have been done.

"And what does that say about you?" His tone was calculating. "I shrink would have a field day with the knowledge that you were fucking a man who treated you like the man who terrorized your life for two decades. And they'd probably come to the same conclusion I have; you _like_ being abused."

With a cry of pure rage, Tessa launched herself at Sands. She didn't know what she intended to do, but she knew that she wanted to hurt him. How _dare_ he say that? How _dare_ he level that accusation in that smug, confident, superior voice of his?

Sands caught her around the waist, wincing as her head slammed into the underside of his chin. With her as a hopeless tangle of arms, legs, and hair in his arms, he overbalanced and fell hard, landing awkwardly with his shoulders and back on the bed and his legs holding him up. Tess was still struggling against him furiously, although it was hard to tell if she was trying to fight against _him_ or his words. Whichever it was, she was managing to injure him with a regularity that got on his nerves.

Managing to twist around while Tessa's full weight was resting on him was a bit difficult, but he managed. Pinning her wrists was even more difficult because now that she was underneath him, she was fighting with desperation. She knew she'd gone too far, said too much. She didn't know what he'd do to her as punishment; that she would be punished was a given. She always was.

Looking down into her face – or what parts weren't veiled by her hair – he felt a brief pang of regret, but he brushed it aside impatiently. He couldn't take his words back any more than she could. What was said was said.

"Calm down," he ordered the still struggling woman underneath him. "I'm not going to rape you, so just calm the fuck down." She did, as if startled by his words, but her body still trembled underneath him as if she had a hive of bumble bees under her skin. He cautiously released one hand, waiting to see if she'd try to free herself again, but she didn't. Content that she would stay put for the time being, he loosened his grip on her other hand, but didn't let go. With his free hand he brushed her hair out of her face, unpleasantly surprised to find tears leaking out from under her eyelids.

_I knew she was hysterical,_ he thought as he looked down at her. But that realization was nothing to he one he had when she opened her eyes to look up at him. All her anger was gone, replaced with a defeated light. He'd broken her alright . . . but now he realized that he didn't want her broken. What fun was that?

Gently, persuasively, he started to put her back together.

**Quotes: **Lirael, by Garth Nix and Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes

**Author Thanks: **thanks go to, **Merrie** (Hell finally broke loose, and I am very relieved. As for a continuation of this chapter? I dunno, Sands is being oddly private, which leads me to believe he's up to no good.); **normal human being** (Aww, I'm glad that not having as many quotes hasn't damaged the level of the story. I'm trying to get them in here as much as I can, but I obviously don't have the right ones, because none of the ones I have fit. Oh well. And the From Hell fic is going to have to wait because I want to get the plot of this one and of FS hammered out before I start a fourth story.); **Lieke** (No, I'll automatically mail my 'extras' out. Cliffies are here to stay, and I don't include a lot of the sex out of consideration for those who don't want to read it.); **Shannon** (Thanks for the compliments. I do my best to keep tension humming through the story, and sometimes I think I do better than at others. And Sands? He's kinda a hard guy to write, simply because he's got too many facets to be able to write him the right way for all people. I've kinda chosen the ones I want, and use those.); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl** (Well, I hope to have Sands in here more and more as the story progresses. I think I've set up the characters enough that I can do so. I worry about some of my OC's being flat, so I've wanted to develop them, but I think I'm getting close to having done that well. And I hope the wait didn't drive you too insane.); **Kontara** (Real life sucks at times, especially when it gets in the way of fanfic. And something tells me that Tess and Sands will be fighting for a long time to come still.); **Dreamgirl21147** (I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Hell broke loose, but no one saw fit to inform me what kind until the dust had settled. : P I hope this satisfied your curiosity.); **Raven** (the keyword _is_ yet, but I don't think he'll ever have to resort to that. I don't mind writing angst, but that's a little too far for my tastes. And I try to update on AFF, but I often forget.); **SS** (You can call me anything you please, SS. Well, almost. I can think of a few names I wouldn't like. ; ) Oh, Merrie's fics are great, and I'm glad you kinda stumbled on mine. Or at least this chapter. And like I said, I forget to post on AFF sometimes. I don't know why. I'm there often enough with our collaborative fic. Thanks for the compliment, I really do try to make this a good story.)


	13. Consequences

**Author's Note: I'm sorry this took so long (I seem to be apologizing a lot lately), but this first scene was really awkward to write. But once I took into consideration that my leads would be awkward around each other too, thing came together really fast. In fact, I think I wrote 9 ½ of these 11 pages today! (That makes me happy.) Please, review and let me know how you think things are developing. Am I going too fast, too slow, not developing at all? I'd like to know what you all think.**

**Any quotes that you want to send in are always appreciated.**

**Author's thanks at the end.**

* * *

Letting out a shaky sigh, Sands rolled over and stared at the ceiling, wondering what he'd just done. Tess laid next to him, eyes closed and chest still rising and falling rapidly. Fury was no longer rolling off her in waves, but he wasn't so sure that this was an improvement. Especially if he considered what had prompted this little _rendezvous_.

Sands sat up on the bed, making Tess moan. She couldn't believe herself. She couldn't believe that she'd let herself sleep with him again – especially after that fight. What had happened to the woman who was so in control of herself, who was able to put her emotions away in little square boxes? Who could go for weeks and months on end without feeling anything stronger than irritation? She'd been like that when she'd first met Sands, and he'd certainly not grown any less prickly or easier to approach. So what had happened?

**_You got used to being touched, Teresa. It's the fault of those brats you took in. Their grimy hands and sticky fingers have made you sentimental._**

The only response Tessa could work up was, _Don't__ call them brats._ There was truth in the voice's suggestion though; she _had_ gotten used to hugs from small arms, and to 'grimy hands' pulling at her for attention. To young voices calling out at all times, sometimes for her, sometimes just to be heard. But why did she try to replace such _pleasant_ interactions with _Sands_? It just didn't make sense.

Sands heard Tessa's groan, and smiled. Not that he was amused – on the contrary, he was pissed at himself for displaying any sort of weakness when it came to this woman.

Unknowingly, his thoughts ran in a parallel to hers as he pulled on his pants and reached for his cigarettes. What had happened to his control? Where had this damned sentimentality come from? Since when had his focused shifted from his job to playing little power games with the woman in his bed? How had he been so able to ignore Tess when they'd been cooped up in the same house, and now he had a hard time getting her out of his mind?

And like Tess, he didn't have any answers. So he settled on finding some answers to other questions, but before he could ask, Tessa spoke.

"The gingham dog and the calico cat/Side by side on the table sat;/'Twas half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)/Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink!/The gingham dog went 'Bow-wow-wow!'/And the calico cat replied 'Me-ow!'/The air was littered, an hour or so,/With bits of gingham and calico,/But the gingham dog and the calico cat/Wallowed this way and tumbled that,/Employing every tooth and claw/In the awfullest way you ever saw- /And oh! how the gingham and calico flew!/Next morning where the two had sat/They found no trace of dog or cat;/And some folks think unto this day/That burglars stole the pair away!/But the truth about the cat and pup/Is this: they ate each other up!"

Sands turned to her, shaking his head when he saw that she'd laid one arm over her eyes. She never ceased to amaze him with her seemingly endless supply of what most people would consider useless quotes, nor with the way she was able to relate them to situations so that she almost seemed to be speaking sense.

"Surely things couldn't have been that bad," he said mildly, lighting up.

"Depends on which part of this _delightful_ afternoon you're talking about," she groused, still not uncovering her eyes.

"Which part are you talking about?"

"I'm not telling." With a deep sigh, Tess sat up, clutching the blankets around her, not looking at Sands.

Several minutes of silence went by before Sands asked what he'd been meaning to before she'd gotten the jump on him. "What did you want, niña?"

Tessa's eyes darted to him, although her face didn't turn at all. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

"Why are you here?"

"Because you told me to come here." She didn't want to explain just how deep her anger at him had been. _How deep it still is,_ she tried to convince herself.

"Carlos' villa is bugged, niña. We could hear your mutterings. I know you were planning to track me down eventually. What was it you wanted?"

**_To see him._**

_ That's ridiculous._

_ **Since when does truth have to make sense?**_

Tess didn't have an answer for that. "I wanted some news of my family," she said quietly. "I worry about them."

The words impacted Sands with an dull comprehension. She _had_ a family, one that she worried about even when she knew they were being watched over by his employers. Of course, the fact that those same men had also threatened to deport the kids probably wasn't much of a reassurance. But all the same, she was worried about a small family that wasn't her own.

_Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen,_ he remembered thinking. Tess didn't want any of this life. He found it engaging, physically demanding, challenging . . . she saw it as duty at best and a torment at worst. And he'd dragged her into it.

Sands turned his back as Tess got out of bed, reaching for her clothes. He gave her the privacy of getting dressed without his eyes on her, even if it was a false privacy. Just because he couldn't see her now didn't mean he couldn't remember what he naked body looked like.

Snubbing out his cigarette and lighting a new one, he wondered just how much of all this was his responsibility. How much had he coerced Tess into doing. If he had tried, could he have convinced Colton and Strauss that Tess didn't know enough to be any use? Other than being in the house itself, she certainly wasn't doing much to get any information.

He knew his orders of course. Tess had to start digging. It was dangerous work even for someone used to going undercover, and he doubted that Tess had ever done any more digging than what went on in an autopsy bay. He'd argued against it by saying it was too much of a risk, that the operation could roll up. But the Company needed information and Tess was working for them, so that was the end of the discussion.

Small shuffling noises and soft clunks came from behind him. He turned to find Tess cleaning: folding his clothes, dusting with Kleenex, straightening things on his dresser. She was nervous.

_Does she really deserve revenge?_ he wondered, watching her. Yes, she'd hurt him. Yes, it'd felt like betrayal at the time. But when it all boiled down, she was nothing. She was a stay at home mom. Who in their right mind would try to get revenge on a stay at home mom?

**_Who says you were in your right mind?_**

That was a good point.

"Come sit down, niña." Tess flinched at the sound of his voice. Sands grimaced – he'd scared her and he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. "We still have unfinished business, pequeña. The sooner we get it done, the sooner you get to leave."

Still agitated, Tess muttered under her breath, "Cleanliness and order are not matters of instinct; they are matters of education," but she took Sands words under consideration anyway. He was right, and she wanted out. Drifting slowly in his direction like a cat that comes at the sounds of its name, but would like you to think it had already been considering coming over, she told him, "I'm not little."

"Of course not." Sands watched as she came over to the table, taking a seat after she did. The first thing he did was hand over her necklace – the one with a microphone in it. He'd removed it before things had gotten serious . . . not out of any real consideration for her reputation but for his own.

Tess shook her head as if she knew what had motivated him, but she took it, and fastened it around her neck. Her eyes were fastened on the floor as she tried to regain some measure of composure. Sands overset her so _easily_.

She heard him sigh and get up. Small rustles came from across the room; Tess imagined that Sands was digging through a pile of papers, looking for something. When his footsteps approached the table again, she couldn't help but tense in anxiety.

**_Get out, get out, get out, get . . ._** The urge to run was coming much too late, and Tess did what she could to muffle it. If Sands had 'business' to go over, then she wasn't going to be able to leave until it'd been discussed.

"I know the floor is interesting, but I'm not sure I'd consider it enthralling, niña." Sands was amused and annoyed by the way she stubbornly refused to look at him. He wasn't going to hurt her. He'd had no intention of hurting her earlier, but she'd struck low and hard and he'd reacted. An apology was in order, he knew, but he also knew he wasn't going to give one and she wouldn't believe it if he did. She'd probably had people apologize for hurting her before – it fit the pattern of behavior for most abusive parents – only to have them do it again.

_God, I'm turning into such a sap,_ he growled to himself while Tess still didn't raise her eyes from the ground. If her avoidance was getting to him, he'd definitely gone too soft.

Irritated, he reached over and slipped his hand under her chin, forcing her to raise her face. Her eyes met his briefly before starting to dart around the room; her hands started tapping at the arms of her chair and he let his hand fall away.

"Here." Sands abruptly thrust a folder in her direction. Tess hesitantly took it, idly noticing that there was about a half inch's worth of papers inside. The moment she had it in her grasp, he stood, running one hand through his hair and grabbing his pack of cigarettes with the other. As he walked across the room to a window, he lit up and she looked back down at her lap.

The folder was unmarked, giving her no hints as to what was inside.

**_Great. Another unmarked package. Don't tell me you're really considering opening it._**__

_ How else am I supposed to find out what's inside?_ Tess asked reasonably. _It must be important if Sands gave it to me, right?_

**_ Just because something is important doesn't mean you want to know, and with the way things have been going lately, you'd be better off not knowing._**

_You're such a pessimist._

**_ With reason._**

_ Then you can be reasonable, and I can be curious._ Strangely enough, Tess did want to find out what was inside the folder, even if she was already unsettled. _How much worse can things get?_

**_Shut your mouth. Never say things like that. You'll tempt fate._**

_ Why should you care? I thought you enjoyed tempting fate._

There were a few soft grumbling protests to the contrary, but the voice finally fell silent. Once Tess was sure she was semi-alone in her own head, she carefully opened the folder. What she saw made tears prick her eyes and her breath go shallow in her lungs.

With hands that trembled, she picked up the first sheet of paper. It was black and had construction paper flowers on it; each piece was segmented, making Tess think of stained glass. Underneath it was a piece of sky blue paper with paper snowflakes glued to it. Both had Ren's name on the back.

Tess quickly sifted through the pile, seeing pictures, and paintings, and letters, and report cards, and progress reports, and photos. So many thing to look at, so much time to catch up on.

"How long have you had this?" she asked softly, directing her words to the silent figure at the window. She was now more grateful than ever for the scant privacy Sands was giving her, but she needed to know.

"It came with a batch of intelligence and reconnaissance reports last night," he finally replied after several long seconds. Apparently our old friend Pauly was trying to hold most of it back and had succeeded until earlier this month. Director Colton found out and had things sent through." Sands knew it was because his superior thought that Tess might be more cooperative if she got some news of her family, some assurance that they were safe. It was a selfish reason for doing a good deed, but Tess didn't need to know that.

Tess was occupied by other thoughts anyway. Looking at the date on one of Marcos' report cards, she surmised that some of the papers dated back to early January. It was now close to the third week of February. There were over a month's worth of correspondence here. Was her family worried that she hadn't replied to any of this yet, or had they known it was all being withheld from her? She glanced up and Sands to ask, but got distracted as she watched him rub at his eyes. They must be bothering him.

"You should take out your contacts," she said quietly, knowing her input probably wouldn't be appreciated. The time when she could make such suggestions was long past.

And she was right. Sands ignored her entirely, switching the topic on her to draw her attention away from his discomfort. "You're going to have to peruse all that here, niña. You can't take it back to the compound with you."

Tess immediately bristled and prepared to protest, but she clamped her mouth shut. Sands was right. If she wanted to keep the kids safe, she couldn't take this back with her. But she couldn't stay here for the amount of time it'd take to look over all this thoroughly either.

"I can't stay," she whispered, more devastated by this than by their argument earlier. "I don't even have the time to look any of this over. I'm in enough trouble for sneaking out as it is."

**_You're already too late as it is. You should have left before falling into bed with him._**

_ That's a reversal – normally you'd be urging me to stay for that bit._

**_ Sure, if you had the time. You didn't. You're going to catch it for this._**

She was, but she'd known that when she'd left. And in the long run, perhaps it wouldn't be that bad. She wasn't the child who'd been so easily quieted all those years before. She was a grown woman now, over three decades old, and more than mature enough to decide when she could come and go. Others had pushed her around for too long and Tess was sick of it.

But that didn't make the decision to break free any easier.

"I have to go now," she murmured, standing. "Don't get rid of this. I'll try to look it over at some other time." Sands turned from his inspection of the street to meet her eyes. "Will . . . will you let them know I got it? I hate to think that they're worrying about me since I haven't replied to any of this."

Sands nodded and picked up a nearby box. In a quick motion, he tossed it to her, and Tess caught it out of reflex. It was a box of tissues. That startled a wet laugh out of her.

She used one to wipe eyes she hadn't known had been tearing, and blew her nose on another, then tossed the box back to Sands. He caught it one-handed and set it back down on the counter.

"There's something else you need to know before you leave," he said, walking back over to the table. He was debating the wisdom of doing what he was about to do, but as far as he was concerned had several good reasons to back him up. Unless he missed his guess, Tess was going to be in hot water for leaving the compound without her cousin's permission and she was going to need something to allay his temper. She might be able to turn a blind eye to Carlos' disposition because of a single act of kindness that was far in the past, but Sands was in a better position to notice the man's manipulation. Tess also needed to start proving to her cousins that she was of some use to the cartel, and the information he had would help her do that. Without their Carlos and Neva's confidence, Tess wasn't going to be much help to the operation, and the Company was starting to run out of patience, even if they hadn't started breathing down Sands' neck yet. His last reason for giving her the info was that if Tessa finally earned a place in the cartel hierarchy, she'd hear the details for the territorial take-over instead of having to creep around to find it. It'd be safer – for her and ultimately for him – in the long run. "Call it a present if you want."

"A present?" Tess was skeptical. "Beware Greeks bearing gifts." Now that she'd remembered that she had to get back, the urge to turn and leave was strong.

"Okay, then I have something better than a present." Reaching into his pocket, Sands pulled out a small CD-rom, one of the three-inch ones that were starting to be used more and more. He handed it to Tess without ceremony.

"What's this?" she asked, turning it over in her hands.

"That," he pointed at the disk, "is all the information we've been able to glean on the attempted hit in Durango." He saw Tess grow both pale and thoughtful. She didn't like to be reminded about her latest near miss, but she knew what having the information meant. "I suggest you use it as a peace-offering between you and your cousin." Her head rose in a startled movement, and her eyes met his without resistance. Sands just shrugged. "We both know you left without permission."

Tess wondered if that was the main reason he was giving her this, or just the first one he'd thought of as a cover for his actions. "There's more to it than that, isn't there?" She knew how the game was played, even if she sometimes forced herself to forget.

Sands shrugged again. "You've got to gain your cousin's trust soon. The big bosses are getting impatient to bring the operation down, but we need more details before we can even start planning. And you're the one that's going to have to get them for us. If you can't get them firsthand, you're going to have to start rifling through papers and listening at doors."

"Which isn't the safest or most efficient way of getting information," she finished for him. Tess looked at the disk again, and sighed. "Just what am I supposed to do with this?"

"All the information has been formatted in a way that makes it look like one of your doubtlessly numerous contacts put it together. That's why you had to go into town today, to pick it up from a P.O. box. You're going to give it to Carlos without looking at the contents. If he asks why you haven't gone through it already, tell him that as _el jefe_, it should go to him first. He's the one that's going to need to decide what kind of action to take."

Tess nodded her understanding. This wasn't going to get her out of trouble – she'd been gone to long for it to help with that – but it might help smooth things over afterwards. Slipping the disk into her purse, she murmured, "Even with this, I'll be punished for leaving. Carlos has to keep face in front of his men and I've threatened that." Sands didn't say anything, and she was glad she wasn't facing him. "I suppose you'll know how things go."

"I suppose I will."

_Typical._ Tess crossed to the door and opened it, grimacing disdainfully as the door across the hall closed an instant too late. She wondered how long they'd been listening at the door and why'd they even bother.

As she closed the door, Tess instructed over her shoulder, "Take your contacts out, use your eye drops, and put on your glasses. You're not going to be of much use if you get an infection."

The door shut before Sands could say anything about nosy women and know-it-all doctors.

* * *

The black coup was easily recognizable when Tess showed up at the gates of the compound. Enough so that she hadn't been challenged at any of the guard posts she knew existed along the road for at least a mile before getting to the gates themselves.

She was let in without any fuss, although she was made to get out of the car and go straight to the house. One of Carlos' many henchmen took the keys and she assumed he went off to return the car to the garage, but since her own bodyguards (who looked chagrined and severely chastised) hustled her into the house, she didn't have time to confirm that hunch.

Just the speed at which she was escorted through the house and the fact that she wasn't even allowed to go up to her room to neaten her appearance first showed how much trouble she was in. Tess knew what her father's penalty for disappearing had been, and she doubted Carlos' couldn't be worse. She was a little old to be put on bread and water for three weeks and in a blindfold for five.

**_That just means it's going to hurt more._**

_ Thank you. I'd already figured that out._****

The men stopped her in front of what she knew were the doors to the billiard room. One of the men knocked, and Carlos' voice could be heard granting permission to come in. Tess was not encouraged by the total lack of warm and emotion from it. But the doors swung open whether she wanted them to or not, and she stepped through even though her mind was screaming at her to stop. Just because this meeting was unavoidable didn't mean she couldn't resist. Tess knew otherwise; to avoid this was to exponentially increase Carlos' anger.

The doors closed silently behind her.

Tess swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Carlos was ignoring her, but she knew it was to prove a point. He wanted her to knew that he was displeased with her and that he had all the time in the world to teach her the wrongness of her actions. It was a lesson Tess had learned often enough so some of its impact was dulled. Right now she just wanted to get his over with and return to her room to tend her wounds.

"You left." Carlos' emotionless voice scattered her thoughts. He casually took a shot, knocking one of the brightly colored balls into a pocket; the smoke from his cigar filled the room and Tess wondered what it was with nicotine and the men she was around the most. But she forced herself to pay attention. Despite his show of nonchalance, he was expecting an accounting from her.

Knowing that excuses would only earn her more wrath and explanations were unwanted until they were asked for, she simply said, "I did."

"You left your bodyguards here against my expressed wishes."

She swallowed hard and clasped her hands behind her back, standing up straight, her shoulders back. "I did."

"You lied to the men at the gate."

"Yes."

"You look a car without permission."

"Yes."

"You were gone for three hours without contacting anyone to let them know you were safe."

"Yes." By now she was forcing herself to answer.

Carlos must have heard the hesitation in her voice because he turned away from the pool table and walked over to her, cue still in hand. "Your personal guards and the men at the gate have all been punished." She wasn't surprised. "After flouting your disregard for my authority and my wishes like that, you know that I cannot let you leave this room as you came in." It wasn't a question, but it still required an answer.

"Yes."

Her cousin met her eyes and nodded, seeing that she knew what was coming. "You are too old for me to banish you to your room, like my uncle did," he said softly. "I suspect you would appreciate the opportunity to withdraw. Wouldn't you?" She nodded. "Then you have forced my hand in this." Again, not a question.

"Yes."

As the word left her mouth, Carlos lashed out with the cue, hitting her squarely, right on the bullet wound in her side that was still healing. Tess ground her teeth and her eyes squeezed shut, but she didn't cry out even though it felt as if her side was on fire.

Giving her just enough time to draw in and expel a single breath, Carlos drew his arm back again, then let the blow fall. Tessa's body tensed in pain, and she bit her lips, but she still remained silent. Carlos admired her for that, but he wasn't finished yet. She received a third blow, and a fourth, and a fifth. After the fifth strike there was blood on the end of his cue from her wound which had broken open under the stress. Tess had bitten through her lip and there were tears on her face, but she hadn't made a sound.

_ Uncle trained her well,_ he thought, looking at her. Very few new recruits in the military would have stood up so well. Carlos knew his blows had been light compared to those his men had received, but then again, he hadn't been exploiting a already existing wound on them either.

"I didn't want to do that, querida, but you know I had to." She nodded, her head ducked to hide her tears. "Tell me why I had to."

"To maintain your control over you men." Tessa's voice was soft and tinged with her pain, but her tears didn't choke them in her throat. But then again, Carlos didn't expect anything less from this woman who had been raised by Armando Barillo. _She would make a formidable consort._

With this thought in mind, Carlos took several steps forward and raised her head until he could look into her face, impressed by the strength of character that kept her from so much as flinching at his touch. He examined her for a full minute, taking note that the tears had stopped and her face was composed. _Formidable indeed._

Tess felt part of her mind sigh in relief when he released her and turned away. She had grown used to being touched, but that didn't mean she always enjoyed it. When the hand doing the touching was the same one that had just beat her, she distinctly disliked it, but she'd tucked that emotion securely away.

In any other schizophrenic, Tess knew, this little incident would have set off an episode, but for some reason most of her voices considered this to be normal and didn't protest. It was sad, but she was grateful for it all the same. Her childhood had been turbulent enough without worrying about that, and it aided her now. Perhaps part of her was a masochist, because it certainly felt as if the pain were being embraced and pulled deep inside of her. But whether it was rejoiced over or simply disposed of, she didn't know and didn't care.

"You may go." The words came as a shock to Tessa who had almost forgotten there was anyone else in the room. Her eyes found Carlos as he looked out a window at the garden he spent part of everyday toiling in. His posture and position reminded her strongly of Sands, and she had to look away. "Go back to your room and tend to yourself. You will join me for dinner and afterwards you will give an explanation for what you found so important that you risked this encounter."

Tess nodded, even though she knew he wasn't looking, and left the room, her bodyguards falling into line behind her.

"Teresa." Carlos voice stopped them all before they'd gone more than three steps. "If you attempt to leave again without my permission, you'll be beaten and your guards will be shot. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." Whether he heard her or merely read her lips Tessa didn't know, but he finally let her go. As she climbed the stairs to her room, she tried not to feel as if she were retreating.

* * *

The wound was an ugly one. It'd only been halfway healed that morning, and now it was angry and oozing blood again. Tess examined it with a mirror and a bright light, wincing as she remembered the pain of peeling off her shirt. Even though it appeared clean, Tess rinsed it first in saline solution and again with a stinging antibacterial wash before taping a large gauze pad over the area. It hurt to apply pressure, but it was necessary to help slow the bleeding, so Tess stoically bore it. Oddly enough, it hurt more to tend to her lip than to her side, but at least that was a faster procedure.

Wearily walking to one of the cabinets in the back of the infirmary, Tess pushed aside several bottles of antibiotics and antitoxins to unearth her own medications. Her mind was spinning from everything that had happened that day, and she needed sleep to help settle it, but there was no way she could sleep at the moment. Not for the first time, she wished she could keep these in her own bathroom, but they'd be too obvious there. There were no guarantees that her room wasn't routinely searched, and she had no desire for these to be found.

After giving herself a little something to ensure a sound – but no long – sleep, Tess moved to her room, trying to ignore the sensation of being watched. Her guards were posted outside the door to this room and the one to bedroom. There was no possibility of her going anywhere until supper. Not that she really wanted to. She was content to lick her wounds in peace.

Tess set her alarm so it'd wake her up roughly an hour before dinner so she'd have time to make herself presentable, then she laid down. The drug she'd given herself was quick to work, no match for the thoughts blazing separate and contradictory paths across her mind. Nothing could keep her eyes open, not Sands, not her family, not Carlos, not memories of her father. However, as a result of her mental unrest, her dreams were filled with the far-off sounds of children's laughter, a sharp pain in her side, long-fingered hands stroking her hair, and a pair of cold blue eyes. It was almost a relief to wake up again.

* * *

Dinner had been formal. Most meals after a punishment were, a further challenge for Tess to save face. She'd dressed in an off-the-shoulder red dress, and left her hair down. Carlos was in a navy silk shirt and chinos, and Neva had completed the little group in a sedate white pantsuit with gold buttons. Tess had tried not to look at her female cousin, well aware of the smug look that'd be on her face. Neva had always believed that Tess was too haughty and she enjoyed watching Tess get in trouble. Not that she'd ever tattled like Ajedrez had, but her self-satisfied gaze had been almost as bad. Now Tess could only hope that Neva didn't know any specifics about what had happened.

The meal had passed in silence, and Tess had almost sighed in relief when it'd ended and Carlos had ushered the two women into his private study. This was perhaps the one room in the house that Tess had never entered. It was paneled in oak and furnished with brass and leather, much as one might expect of a male's inner sanctum.

The three had all taken seats around a small coffee table where coffee and tea were already set out, along with several goblets and a decanter of red wine. Neva opted for wine while Tess had tea and Carlos had coffee strengthened with a shot of brandy from a nearby table.

Once they were all settled, Carlos immediately got down to business. "I believe you still owe me an explanation for this morning, prima."

From the look on Neva's face, she'd been briefed on the morning's fiasco and had heard what Tessa's punishment had been. That single look made Tess reluctant to say anything else. So instead of offering a verbal explanation, Tess pulled the small disk out of the pocket that'd convinced her to wear this dress to dinner. Carlos took it from her and looked at it in much the same way earlier, then transferred his gaze to her. "What's this?"

"My explanation. Needed answers. Reconnaissance." She shrugged. "It's only as much as what you make of it."

"A lot of things for such a small thing to be," Carlos observed mildly. "Why don't you drop the riddles and give me a straight answer."

She sighed, wishing she could have gotten away with it. "Two days after arriving here, I sent a message back to Culíacan with one of the supply caravans that had come with my medical inventory. It was to one of my contacts there. I asked them to do some poking around and find out just who was trying to kill me and why." She saw the patient look on Carlos' face and the skeptical one on Neva's. As chief of security, finding out that information would have been Neva's job. "I knew you were probably already doing that, but I needed to do something, if just to purge my own demons of that night. I got a call on my cell phone yesterday from my contact. He said he'd sent the information he'd found overnight to a P.O. box in the town. So impatient to get it, I left this morning with every intension of being gone for no more than an hour. Unfortunately, the _cuate_ didn't take into account that there's more than one post office in Guadalupe, so I had to search around for the right one." Tess shrugged, nothing about her face, posture, or voice giving away the fact that she was lying through her teeth.

Carlos and Neva exchanged another look, and Neva took over the questioning. "And just what information is on this disk, ratón?"

"Neva. . . ." Carlos rebuked his sister for the unkind nickname, but didn't say anything else. He was waiting for Tessa's answer to the question.

"I don't know." That at least wasn't a lie. "I decided just to bring it home and turn it over to Carlos. I figured that if there was anything on it that I needed to know, I would be told."

This had been the right answer, she could see it in their eyes. Carlos had an approving air around him and Neva simply looked less hostile. Tess silently thanked Sands for his advice.

"Very wise of you, querida." Carlos handed the CD to Neva. "I trust you'll look over this and brief me on what you feel is important?" he addressed his sister.

Neva nodded and stood, recognizing a dismissal when she heard one. With one last measuring look at Tess, the other woman left the room, presumably to start sifting though information. Tess suddenly hoped that Sands and his people had had the foresight to include a few dead leads and a bit of misinformation. If it was too accurate, Neva might get suspicious."

"Don't look so distressed, Teresa. I think Neva is finally starting to come around."

Once again Carlos had taken her by surprise. Tess cursed and reminded herself to pay attention. One of these days her wandering mind might get her into trouble. "That would be nice. I'm tired of having to tip-toe around her." That too was the truth.

"And how are you? I hope you weren't too badly hurt?"

**_Hypocrite. He knows exactly how badly hurt you were. He's the one that did it._**

_ Yes, but this is the apology._

_ **Then why does he sound as if he's inquiring to your health after being in a car accident?**_

_ Don't be stupid. You know how it works. Just because you don't like it doesn't mean it's going to change._ "Not too badly," she blandly agreed. That small bit of rebellion must have come from her other side, because Tess certainly hadn't meant for it to be there.

"You're upset with me?" Carlos' eyebrows rose and he took a sip of his coffee.

_Yes._ "No. I'm just afraid that I'm tired still. Disagreements tend to do that to me." She played along, making it sound as if nothing had really happened between them.

"Then I'm selfish for keeping you up." He stood and walked to her chair, helping her to her feet. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. We really were concerned for you."

_As if I'd had a choice._ "It was my pleasure. I did owe you an explanation after all."

"And you did admirably. Now, go to bed." He leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. It made Tess uncomfortable, but she stayed still, telling herself it was the kiss and apology of a cousin and nothing more.

Her bodyguards came into the room before she could think about it any more, and Carlos surrendered her to them. "Sueñes de agradable."

_Sweet dreams._ "Gracias, primo. Y tú."

* * *

**Quotes: **Eugene Field, Benjamin Disraeli, Homer.

**Author's Thanks:** first of all, I'd like to thank _everyone_ for being so patient with me. Now, on to individual thanks.

**normal human being** (I know the ending of the last chapter was cruel, but Sands just kinda slammed the door in my face. That was one time he didn't want me to write about anything. And as for his being a bastard? I've got plenty of bastardy goodness left for him before he admits to _liking_ Tess. I'm glad you liked that chapter so much though. It was really fun to write and fun to give Tess the much needed opportunity to blow off some steam.) **Isola** (I thought it was a good closing line. Discrete, but you knew just what he was going to be doing. And I liked throwing in that little epiphany for him; he likes Tess being stubborn. Otherwise there's no challenge to their game. Thank you for the compliments on my writing – I'm not sure they're really so well earned, but they're encouraging nonetheless, and they remind me not to settle and to fight to get people to do what they're feeling, not what's easiest to write.); **Dreamgirl21147** (I'm not sure where that quote is in Lirael, but I'm pretty certain it's Dog who says it. Either at the door of three signs when they're exploring and the Sending tests her blood, or at the end when people finally catch on that Lirael is the Abhorsen-in-waiting, not Sam.); **Merrie** (hey! That fight _was_ fun! ; ) And of course they can't get along, at least not yet. As for smut, I think that's all being invested in our other little enterprise, so blame Jeffrey, Salida, and Aida. And your Sands.); **C.J. Davis** (hey, I understand that real life can get in the way of important things like fanfic. Just review when you can and you'll make me a very happy OUATIM writer.); **SavvyJackSparrow** (Are Sands and Tess ever going to get serious? Hmm, good question. I know the answer of course, I just have to get them to agree with it. ; ) Don't worry, I'm nowhere done with arguing with them yet.); **Shannon** (Squeals of delight are good. And yes, just because something is repetitive doesn't mean its not heartfelt, so repeat away. As for Sands and his layers, I'm just glad I'm doing good and writing a true version of my view on him. Its not as psychotic as some, but at least it's not OOC.); **Tracey6** (I tried to update soon, I really did. But this is what 'soon' turned out to be. I just hope that you don't have any complaints.); **Raven** (Well, if updates keep getting better and better, I'll have to stop soon because I won't be able to best myself any more. I'm glad you feel special – that's one of the reasons I do these individual reviews. If you can put in the effort to review, then I can put the effort in to reply. And Sands as a gentleman, you're right. He's not at all. He's got his own moral code, but he's not a gentleman by any stretch of the imagination.); **dagzer** (like I've said, I'm really trying to get these out as fast as I can, but the more complicated emotions and interactions get, the slower they seem to make it from my fingers to your screen. I just hope I haven't lost your interest.)


	14. Synthetic Love

**Author's Note: hmm, I certainly hope that the last round of malfunctions that had interfered with people getting author's alerts. Because it's either that, too many people are on vacation, or downtime between updates has gotten so long that no one is reading this any more.**

**Save me from my writer's imagination and let me know what you're thinking. ; )**

**Author's thanks at the end, as always.**

* * *

Tess wanted to go outside. From her seat in the stifling conference room, she could see out a close window. If the gardens at her childhood home were flourishing and well cared for, then the ones here at what Carlos considered his home were pampered and lavish. Even now she could hear the faint whistling of on gardener or another.

The faint sound made her suddenly and violently homesick. Not for New York or Culíacan, but for the dense green jungle that had surrounded her home as a child. When she'd known nothing about cartels, or cruelty, or madness. The whistling could easily be the old woman who'd cared for her then.

The urge to close her eyes and return to that half-remembered home was strong. She could go back and simply live, a quiet hermitess, maintaining a life of peace and calm. Alone . . . never visited by anyone more important than villagers seeking herbal remedies and a dark, slim man who would appear at dusk and disappear before dawn. . . .

**_Do you hear yourself?_** The pleasant daydream was shattered by the harsh voice inside her head. **_As much as I'd love for you to join me, it'll get you killed at the moment. Not to mention you're daydreaming about _him.**

_I was?_ Tess fought the urge to blush._ Well, what do you expect?_ she asked irritably. _He's my first lover – _

**_ Bite your tongue! The man is poison and you know it._**

_ I know lots of things. I know you're not real, yet I'm arguing with you._

**_ But _lover_?_** The voice sounded distressed and fidgety.

Tess thought about that very carefully. True, Sands might not be her first choice for numerous reasons – he was crude, selfish, manipulative, a danger to her physical and mental health – but at least he was familiar. He didn't portray a single characteristic that she wasn't used to seeing and/or defending herself against. They even had a shared history. . . .

**_ Teresa Adame! Stop thinking like that._**

_ But it's true. . . ._

****"Teresa?"

**_Yeah, well, en vino veritas, but you're not drunk. Stop being so "truthful."_**

_ It's not like I'd ever fall in lo–_

"Teresa?"

****The voice became aware of the man calling Tessa's name before Tessa herself did. **_Pay attention already!_** The reprimand was full of desperate warning, showing just how on edge the voice – and consequently Tessa – was.

Tessa forced her attention to snap back to the room she was locked in, just in time to hear Carlos say, "I'm sorry if I'm boring you, prima, but could you possible answer my question?" From the dangerous note in his voice, Tess knew she'd been distracted for far too long.

"Uh . . . what was the question?" Her inquiry was met with rude laughter from the men around her. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well." It wasn't a total lie. Embarrassment was rushing through her veins like a fever. "I'm sorry . . . please excuse me. I need some air." Under the criticizing eyes of the men in the room, Tessa rose, surprised by how shaky her muscles were, and escaped.

When Carlos found her an hour later, she was sitting on a bench in a wisteria shrouded alcove just off the path. Her face was half in sunlight, half in shade, and her thoughts preoccupied her to the point that she didn't hear his approach.

He took a seat beside her, gazing out over the same pond she was, taking pleasure in the stands of bamboo and pampas grass that ringed the small millpond, in the Acacia trees, and Mexican orange shrubs, and the mounds of flowers spread to either side of the white gravel paths. The butterfly bushes were still a long way from blooming, but their foliage provided a silvery backdrop to stretches of mountain laurel, hibiscus, narcissi, and taller iris. In a way, he was glad she'd retreated to the gardens. Being here was relaxing for him, and he didn't want to argue with her. Her punishment of three weeks past had been enough.

"Teresa, tell me what is troubling you." She jumped, as if taken by surprise – even though they'd been sitting side by side for a good five minutes. Her eyes, when she looked at him, were shadowed, as if she'd been thinking too long about something that disturbed her. "Ah, querida, I do not like seeing you sad. Tell me what is wrong and we will fix it."

Tess gave him a funny half-smile, then turned her eyes back to the walled garden, although he doubted that was what she saw. "I'm not cut out for this, Carlos. I miss my home."

"I thought this _was_ your home," he said cautiously. If she had any doubts, they needed to be settled now, before plans went any further. Uncertainty could cost lives in the end, and he couldn't afford that. Not until the Barillo cartel once again drew young men to its ranks like it once had. Not until it had shed the brand of being a broken family.

She seemed to realize her faux pas, and dutifully corrected herself. "Yes, of course. This is my home." The admission had no joy behind it, and it lacked the ring of truth that Carlos was searching for.

"You are unhappy?"

_I am trapped. Trapped by more than your walls and your decisions._ "How can I be unhappy among the welcoming arms of _familia_?"

Carlos laughed, although he wasn't amused by her answer. "I don't what your duty, Teresa Adame. If that is all I have, then you are free to go." It was true – he had duty. Hundreds and thousands of dollars worth of duty. He didn't want that from her.

"You have more than my duty," she whispered after a few seconds of silence.

**_What are you saying! You stupid tonta! Necia! Zonza!_**

****_I'm not a fool. I'm just tired of all the lies. Can't I just let the ones that serve no purpose fall?_

**_ No. Not when they're going to get us both killed. I'd rather have you fooling around with Sands than telling the "truth" to your dear primo. I'll be back when you decide to be rational again._** And with that there was silence in Tessa's head as the voice left her to her own devices, and making her second guess herself.

_Why is it that you're making more and more sense lately?_ She didn't expect an answer, and she didn't receive one. "Can't you simply understand that it's too hard?"

"What's too hard, Tessa?"

She jumped, remembering too late that she had company. "Carlos!"

He was worried now. Never in his life had he seen his cousin so scatterbrained. "Are you feeling well?" He laid a hand on her forehead to divine whether or not she was running a fever.

"I-I'm fine." Tess pulled away with a bit of reluctance. His touch had been comforting, undemanding. Something she received rarely these days.

"Then why did you run out on the meeting? We were discussing important things. Things I will need you to know if you are to help to the best of your abilities."

Tess winced, knowing Sands would not be happy that she'd left in the middle of that. Even if she hadn't been listening, every word said in that room would have been recorded . . . until she'd rushed out, that was. "I heard one of your gardeners. . ." she started, wanting Carlos to excuse her and Sands to understand why she'd left. She couldn't stand being on bad terms with both her cousin and her . . . handler? Supervisor? Lover?

"And his whistling upset you? I know some of the old men I employ are tone-deaf, but surely they aren't that bad."

"No. They're not. It just reminded me of a song my abuela used to sing."

"Your abuela? I thought uncle's parents were long dead."

"They are, as far as I know. And I've never met my mother's parents." _Never met them, never met my mother, never met the parents of the children I've taken in . . . _

"Then you're talking about the woman who raised you?"

Tess nodded. "Before I came here. I grew up on the peninsula, in small village. I suppose I was kept there because it was safe – there was a lot of fighting going on for control of the cartel at that time. Sometimes I tell myself that Father sent me there to keep me safe, but it doesn't track."

"He cared for you –"

"_Don't_ tell me that." Tess turned on her cousin, eyes narrowed and temper barely under control. She could feel the temptation to throw her self-control aside, felt it beating at the back of her mind, but she managed to control herself again. Sitting on the bench, her body tense, she said tightly, "He didn't care. He didn't care for anything beyond shaping a tool that would respond to his hand, or Ajedrez' hand, or even yours. All that mattered to him was that I be malleable enough to serve his precious cartel in whatever capacity was demanded from me." She had to take a deep breath and reign her anger in even further. "Just as we were all raised. So don't tell me my father loved me and just didn't know how to express it. I left that lie behind a long time ago."

She figured that she'd shocked him into silence since Carlos didn't say anything for a long time. The shadow on a nearby sundial had moved before he hazarded conversation again.

"I hope you got what you needed out of the meeting."

_So do I._ "Perhaps you should debrief me just in case."

"Neva would do a better job at that than I would." He slanted a look in her direction, so caught the wrinkled nose and raised lip that resulted from the suggestion. "Neva may be abrasive at times, prima, but she is loyal to the family."

"That doesn't mean she likes me. Or even you if she thinks you're making a mistake. Loyalty is sometimes the most dangerous quality for a person to possess. Both for themselves or for the cause they're loyal to."

**_Dangerous. . . ._**

"Yes, but she's loyal to me. Not the cartel." Tess could only grunt and nod in response to that. Carlos was tempted to let the subject drop, but since she'd brought it up. . . . "And what about you, Teresa. What are you loyal to?"

She closed her eyes as if in pain as her mind whirled to find a way to answer the question without lying. "I'm loyal . . . I'm loyal to preventing as much bloodshed as possible."

Swallowing, Tess changed the subject as smoothly as she could. "And to that effect, what exactly did I miss in the meeting?" She needed to ask, not only to keep up her cover, but to satisfy her CIA handlers. If more information didn't start rolling their way soon, they'd push Sands to push her to go to more desperate lengths to find the intelligence they wanted. And Tess would do it. She'd do it for a desire just to go home, if not for what had used to be her purpose in life – to mend the damage done by her family.

* * *

"Agent Sands!"

After a long night of not being able to shut off his mind, Sands groaned. Whoever was out in the hall was not only banging on the door with unnecessary force, but they'd forgotten to use codenames. Just because the man downstairs was a sorry excuse for a manager and doorman didn't mean that they could relax security. After all, if the man could be bribed, then he couldn't be trusted. And Sands was working within a government budget at the moment so most anyone could outbid him for the man's loyalty.

Grumbling as he automatically reached for his guns, Sands went to open the door. He had to fight down a brief stab of disappointment when Brian Weyhauser's athletic form was revealed, but instead of pondering where the disappointment came from, he growled, "What the hell is so important that you not only had to wake me up with this ungodly racket, but also made you forget that we're supposedly undercover. Not that we will be any more if you continue yelling at the top of your lungs."

The younger man just barely managed to keep from raising his eyebrows at his superior's decidedly irritable disposition. For the most part, Sands behavior and attitude had been easy going – if not bordering on treasonous – for the duration of their stay in Mexico. Brian had to admit that although Sands often cut a few too many corners from what was taught as proper procedure, his methods usually worked. Especially in a country that had no good reason, and no good opinions, to help Americans.

He _was_ going to comment on Sands' bad mood, or at least he'd been planning to until he saw the look on the agent's face. He quickly changed his mind after that. "The Barillo woman just bailed on an important meeting about the Merída cartel. You – "

Sands had shot out of his bedroom before the younger agent had finished his sentence. He didn't like this development at all. For several weeks he'd had the feeling that Tess was wavering, that all tension and subterfuge was getting to her. If she folding on them, there'd be hell to pay, and that was if they all managed to get out safely.

It was a surprise to find himself actually regretting a course of action, but Sands did. He shouldn't have left Tess in silence for so long before she made her escape, and he should have made contact with her more since she had. _I need to get a hold of her soon. We've got to meet._ He was going to tie her to him in any way he could. This operation couldn't fail.

"What's going on?" All his regrets and decisions had taken place in the eyeblink it took to cross the hallway.

His underlings all paused as he demanded information, and then it rushed into him from more people and at a greater speed than he could understand at once.

"Stop," he ordered, feeling frustrated with himself – which was something he didn't like and was experiencing far too often as of late. "Barnaby, tell me what's going on."

Eliza Barnaby was a few years older than Sands himself, but had made the decision to join the CIA rather late in life. This was her first operation where she was second-in-command, but she took things seriously, not showing any sign of resentment to be working for someone five years her junior. She was also the only one on Sands team that had taken to calling Tess "Adame" instead of "Barillo."

"Velasquez called a conference meeting this morning for nine hundred hours," she read from a thick file. Sands resisted the urge to shake his head. The old lady – which was a term of respect more than it was of ridicule – followed procedure to the letter, going so far as to read from the record rather than report information that was still fresh in her mind. Sands suspected that her by-the-book attitude was the reason she was here. The Company still didn't trust him entirely.

"We knew about the meeting yesterday. Tell me what's up with Adame." As he leaned against a nearby wall, Sands crossed his arms over his chest and glanced around the room, sending loitering agents back about their business with no more than a raised eyebrow.

"Velasquez was just going over the suspected infiltration by the Merída cartel when he tried to get Adame's input on some point of the attempted assassination in Durango. She didn't respond. He tried twice more and when he finally got her attention, she made some excuse for not feeling well and rushed from the room."

Sands nodded. The information on the Merída's had come from the woman the CIA had planted in Guadalajara. Somehow the cartel that Velasquez had targeted had gotten wind of the planned takeover, and they were defending themselves and their territory before they could be attacked. Sands knew that Carlos would know there had to be a mole somewhere in his organization, and he knew that the most obvious suspect would be Tessa. And Tessa had to know that to.

_Or more likely, she needs to be warned of it._ As the weeks had passed, the mutterings on the other end of the locket had become more and more frequent, and less and less comprehensible. Tess was a smart woman, but she wasn't playing with a full deck of cards.

"Where is she now?"

"From the feed we're getting from her glasses, she seems to be in the gardens behind the house. And Velasquez is with her. He adjourned the meeting some time ago."

Sands didn't like the sound of that. They couldn't afford for any suspicions to be pointed in Tessa's direction. "Are they talking?"

Barnaby shrugged and pointed towards Newman who was on wiretap detail.

Sands nodded his thanks and walked towards the green agent. "Newman, what's going on?"

"Barillo's talking about her childhood with Velasquez. Something about – oh, wait. No, now she's ranting about her father."

Sands rolled his eyes and took the headset from the woman. "Take a break." He wanted to hear this for himself. Fiddling with several knobs, he took a seat in the deserted chair as Tessa's voice came in.

". . . doesn't mean she likes me. Or even you if she thinks you're making a mistake. Loyalty is sometimes the most dangerous quality for a person to possess. Both for themselves or for the cause they're loyal to."

She had a point. Sands knew all about loyalty himself and didn't put much stock in it. Well . . . not in the way she meant. He didn't believe that most people today even had loyalty, with Tess herself being the exception. Perhaps. There were all sorts of grisly, inhumane, and treasonous things done in the name of "loyalty." Not that he could deceive himself into thinking that he hadn't done grisly, inhuman and treasonous things himself. He just chose not to hide his actions behind so noble a name. He was selfish, self-seeking, and self-centered, along with the other 1.8 billion people on the face of the planet.

He missed part of the conversation while lost in these thoughts, but tuned back in just in time to hear Carlos ask, "And what about you, Teresa. What are you loyal to?"

"I'm loyal . . . I'm loyal to preventing as much bloodshed as possible."

The hesitation in her voice caused a note of warning to shiver through his blood. Just how close was Tess getting to changing her "loyalties"? _If nothing else I'll have her look through more of that file of letters. Responsibility should reign her in. I just have to figure out a way to get her here._

* * *

Tess sat and ran over all the information that Carlos had just given to her. With a suspected infiltration with as many as a hundred men and no less than fifty, the Merída cartel wasn't just attempting to gain reconnaissance, they were making a preemptive strike. But how had they gotten the original information that Carlos was eyeing their territory? And more importantly, how had they discovered that he had enough resources to do more than cast envious glances towards the Jalisco province?

"A mole," she said suddenly, turning very pale. "You think someone's been leaking information to the Merída's." When Carlos didn't answer her, Tess spun around on the seat and felt her heart constrict. Carlos' eyes were fixed on her face, as if willing her to tell the truth to him. As if trying to tell whether she was holding back any secrets or not. "Neva suspects me, doesn't she?"

Her cousin nodded. "She does."

**_Run, leave. This is dangerous. Go. Go now. Hurry._**

Tess had to force herself not to listen to the voice's urgings. Running would make her look guilty and she'd never be able to explain that reaction away. It was better to reason with her cousin. "But-but I can't have. You haven't started including me in these meetings until after I got that disk . . . and you said that's when you got the tip-off that they were coming to Guadalupe."

Carlos said nothing, but he did turn his gaze away. Tess watched carefully for any sign of a pent-up outburst, prepared to leap out of the way should it be aimed at her, but all she saw was a lessening of the tension in Carlos' shoulders.

"You don't think it's me?" _Oh god, I hope not. I don't want to be here. I don't want to play this game. I just want to be home._****

"No. I do not think you are the one leaking information."

**_But doesn't it make sense. They had no problems with security until you came along. The attack on you could be explained away as a hit meant to silence a wavering and uncertain informant._**

_ What are you doing? It's not me._

**_ Can you be sure of that, Teresa Adame?_**

"It's not me," she whispered fiercely, anything to shut the voice up. "It's not."

She jumped when a large hand settled over fists she hadn't even known she'd made. Startled and suddenly panicky, certain that she'd been found out for the madwoman she was, her eyes darted up to meet Carlos'.

"I do not like seeing such fear in you, querida." He unconsciously tightened his grip on her when he felt how cold her skin was. "It will take more than a coincidence or two for me to doubt you. Certainly you know that."

_El dios ahorra el absurda. _She didn't like the sound of that. Too many young would-be paramours had come to her with that tone of voice for her to mistake it now.

**_That's the problem with family that isn't family. They can get ideas._ **

God, she hated that smug tone. But she couldn't respond. Not now. She still had another bullet to dodge. "I know you don't like to suspect family, and I'm –" Her throat closed when she saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes. "Carlos –"

"No. Just be silent for a moment." Tess shut her mouth. When he was sure she wouldn't say anything else, he started talking. "Surely you know that I admire you for more than the simple reason that we are related through a now distant marriage."

_Oh god, no._The voice simply let out a peal of delighted laughter at the chaos this was causing in Tessa's emotions.

"Carlos –"

"Shh. . ." Tess shushed and bit her lip. "Ah, querida. You were always such a brave little girl. And that trait has served you well. But you do not need to be so brave anymore."

"But Neva –"

"Do not use her for an excuse." The words were kind, but they were lined with iron and Tess didn't dare disobey. "Neva is my right arm. She is suspicious of everyone, and catches a great deal that way. But sometimes she is _wrong_, and you are one of the things she is wrong about." Both his hands were holding hers now, keeping her tethered to him when she would have covered her ears like a child. "I do not ask you for anything now, and I will make no declarations that you are not ready to hear. Just know that I would be happy for you to stay with us always. My left hand. The one that sees the good in people and not just motives. Remember that I have always been kind to you, and ask yourself whether staying here – with me – would be so horrible."

When he released her, Tess had to lock every muscle in her body to keep from flying off the bench and into the house. Running was so easy, and if only it would solve this problem.

**_He agrees with me, Teresa. You've heard it yourself. Stay here. Stay where no new circumstances would ever arise. Free yourself. Your life is a burden. Give it over._**

_ I can't. . . ._

**_ Yes you can. Just tell him about the apartment on _****_Arenas street_****_._**

_ No!_

Carlos could easily read the shock on Tessa's face. As much as it saddened him to leave without wringing some admission from her, without some hold on her, it was necessary. Hovering would not speed along her thought process. Not when she was this nervous.

"I have other matters to attend to, querida, but I don't want you to forget what I said. Or fear my reaction if you say no."

She wanted to say no so badly, but couldn't force the words through her dry mouth and past her frozen lips. Her heart screamed it, but that only emphasized the careful lack of opinion from certain parts of her mind. Whether she wanted to be or not, she was tempted. And that would destroy her. She needed to get out. She needed to talk to Sands. She had to be reminded of why she was here.

Carlos was halfway across the lawn before Tess realized that he'd left her side. _He has to let me out. He has to._ "Carlos!" He stopped and turned to her, waiting for her to say whatever she needed to. "I-I . . . if we're suspecting an influx of casualties . . . there's some things I will need to gather. Some medicines and equipment I'd like to stock the infirmary with. And I'll need to hire a nurse. I might not be able to tend to everyone myself and we can't afford any fatalities."

"What are you asking me, Teresa?"

"I'd like to go into town this afternoon. If the Merída's are mustering in Zacatecas then it should be safe. For today. But tomorrow I might need to go to Zacatecas as well if I can't find what I need here."

Carlos nodded, approving her plans. It was good to see that she wanted to support her family. It meant that she hadn't written them all off because he'd spoken unwisely. And if she supported the family, then she supported him, and some vain part of him liked that idea. "Very well. I will tell your guards –"

"Please. I'd like to go alone today. I'll take a gun but the town should still be safe." He didn't look convinced and Tess offered more than she wanted in order to be let out. "I'll take an armored car tomorrow and as many men as you want. I just . . . I just need time to think today. And I can't do that while I've got two hulking shadows on my tail."

He was hesitant to let her out alone, but she had asked, and she'd made concessions, and even worse was that she'd made sense. "Alright. Today you may got out alone but any excursions that go beyond Guadalupe's borders must have an escort of at least three men."

"Thank you." Tess offered a trembling smile before turning to go into the nearest wing of the house. Carlos watched until she disappeared, then went to find his sister. They had things to discuss. Especially since they were expecting a visitor that evening.

* * *

Following the same routine as the last time she'd met Sands, Tessa parked on the other side of the city from her intended destination and then took a cab to Arenas street. She didn't bother to check in with the man at the front desk; she was too agitated for such mundane niceties. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, she raced up the stairs, only to pause when she reached the floor she wanted.

_They must have cameras in the lobby,_ she thought dizzily. Sands was lounging in front of the door that led to the fifth floor. For a moment her entire body revolted at the thought of what her whirling mind might spew out through her mouth and she took a step backwards, forgetting there was a step immediately behind her. Only quick action from Sands saved her from a tumble down the stairs.

Looking into her unnaturally pale face, Sands found himself thinking that she was more upset than he'd expected her to be. And even worse, that there was an air of mania to her distress. She struggled against his close observance, but he tightened his hands and wouldn't let her go. "Conejo, tell me –"

"The moon is no door, it's face in its own right,/white as a knuckle and terribly upset/It drags the sea after it like a dark crime;/it is quiet with the O-gape of complete despair/I live here."

He shook her brusquely. "Don't give me that, niña. A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a shortcut to meet it. Have you been taking your meds?"

"When you absolutely don't know what to do anymore, it's time to panic." Tess knew she had to calm down, that she was driving herself towards an episode, but she couldn't seem to find her mental brakes. "Though they go mad they shall be sane –"

"Damnit, niña." Sands grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "Use your words."

The phrase was so perfectly normal, something she'd said to Lena a hundred times, that it grabbed her attention and gave her spinning mind something to grab hold to. Like water molecules to dust to form rain. _Focus._ "Wh-what?"

"Have you been taking your meds?" The question was more of a demand than in inquiry, and Tess didn't dare not answer.

"It-it's hard. People interrupt. They can't know. Knowledge is power. A rein. A leash."

"I'll take that as a no." Now that Tess was making a bit more sense, Sands led her out of the stair well and into his room. "Sit," he demanded, ushering her to a chair. "And don't get up." Tess watched his hands as he made the type of gesture she'd seen Carlos use on his Dobermans to make sure they were going to obey before daring to turn his back on them. This memory distracted her until Sands suddenly reappeared in front of her eyes.

"Hello," she greeted him, as if they hadn't already spoken.

Sands shook his head and didn't reply. Instead he stepped back to reveal a slight woman behind him. Tess examined her, noting the facial features that hinted at some sort of Asian background, the short, glossy hair, and the needle in her hand.

"No." She jumped out of the chair, moving to stand behind it. "I can't sleep. I can't. I have things I need to do."

The two agents shared a look, then Sands looked back at her. "It's not a tranquilizer, chiquita. It's one of your suppressants. Someone thought it might be a good idea if we kept one or two of them on hand." As he spoke, Sands moved around the chair slowly, coming to stand beside her. "You won't go to sleep."

"They make me sleepy," she disputed.

"Then you need the sleep." Sands took her arm to hold her in place as the female agent approached.

"_Can't._ I have to . . . I have to . . ."

"You have to stock your cabinets. Yes, I know. Do you have a list?" He nodded when Tessa's eyes flew to her purse. "Agent Maddox will take care of it for you, from our own supplies if necessary."

"Can't get them all today. Have to go to Zacatecas tomorrow." Despite the restraint of Sands' hand on her arm, Tess was still backing away.

"Why?"

"To get out of the house. To get away from him. He can't. Oh god he can't." Distracted by this, she covered her eyes.

Sands nodded to Maddox, intending to do this by hook or by crook if he had to. She moved in slowly and silently, and gave Tess the depressant before she could protest again. The moment she felt the prick, all the fight went out of her and she leaned against Sands, her head drooping a bit.

Dismissing his agent with a look, Sands led Tess to the bed and sat her down. She wouldn't look at him. _Women,_ he thought, somewhat disgusted at her display of such stereotypical behaviour. Just because she hadn't gotten her way, she wasn't going to acknowledge his presence. Well fine. He wouldn't inflict it on her.

Crossing the room, Sands retrieved the file with all the letters and scraps of paper from Tessa's family. It took the last of his patience to thrust it under her nose and wait for her to take it. When she did, he turned on his heel and left the room, telling an unfortunate Weyhauser to guard the door.

Tess wouldn't be leaving until they'd gotten the chance to talk.

* * *

When Sands went back to his room an hour later, he found Tessa stretched out and asleep on his bed. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration and stared down at her.

_I've never met a more infuriating and frustrating woman in my entire life. No, wait._ An image of Inge rose before his mind's eyes, and he grimaced. _Make that just frustrating._ Tess always did what was expected of her, but almost never for the reasons that he expected.

**_She's pure, remember? And if you don't do something soon, she'll turn on you for completely pure reasons. Since you can't kill her without loosing your credibility – if not your job – then I suggest you make her think that you're more important to her and her dear cousin is._**

Disgusted by the circular pattern of his thoughts, Sands went to a window and lit up, flicking the ashes outside. It was there that he realized that the entire game had changed on him. Tess was still the queen, but he'd let her become _his_ queen when she should simply be the most powerful piece out of dozens that could be manipulated for good or ill. He needed to put some distance between them, and if she were anyone else, he'd hand her over to the care of someone else and break off all contact with her. Much as she'd done with him all those months ago in LA.

**_But she knew you were on your way to recovery before she split._**

"Fuck you," he hissed at his conscience. But that didn't mean it wasn't right. Yes, Tess had taken off. Yes, she'd left him alone. But it was with someone she trusted, someone he knew, and out of consideration for his feelings.

**_You don't want to kill her._** **_You never did._**

No. That had never been the point. If he had to kill her, then she'd come to mean too much. But the opposite was true as well – if he didn't want to kill her, if he _couldn't_ kill her, then she'd come to mean too much. Either way he was screwed over where she was concerned. No matter what he chose to do, he would be left with an inexperienced double-agent whose sanity was doubtful and growing more so with every passing day. But he wouldn't admit he cared. Let the record show that he was looking out for her on behalf of the kid who'd saved his life on that Day of the Dead. And once they all returned to the States, then he could make the break.

A soft rustling behind him made Sands look over his shoulder. Tess had rolled over onto her back and her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. He turned back to his grungy view and waited for her to make the first move – after all, she was the one who'd raced here.

"Doesn't the smoke hurt your eyes?" The question was a soft and unobtrusive as possible, but it still got on Sands' nerves.

"I don't think you have any right to nag, pequeña." The words sounded sulky, and Sands cursed himself under his breath. Silence came from the other end of the room, and he tried not to feel guilty. The woman rushed to him for some sort of support, and he snaps at her. _ Not sure what else she was expecting though. No one's ever been able to accuse me of being a nurturer._

"I suppose you're right." Her eventual agreement sounded defeated. "But don't I have the smallest cause for being concerned?" _After everything we've gone through, whether we wanted to be together or not?_

Why did she have to bow to his every dictate so easily? Damnit, why couldn't she put her foot down for once and blast him for being an unjust tyrant? And why the hell did he want her to? There was only one way to respond to her comment, and it was one he'd given women before. This shouldn't be so different.

Snuffing out his cigarette, Sands said in a soft, listen-to-me-because-I'm-only-going-to-say-this-once voice, "We're _not_ having this conversation, niña. If you're well enough to carp like a wronged mistress, you can collect your things and leave." He was certainly going to. With other women it was amusing to watch their reactions, but the opportunity to watch Tessa's didn't seem nearly as appealing.

Tess watched in a daze as Sands threw his lighter on a nearby table and walked towards the door. She didn't want him to leave. If he left that meant she didn't belong with him, with the country he represented, and then she'd have to take Carlos' suit. And she didn't want to do that. His hand was on the doorknob before she managed to force her dry mouth to say anything.

"No. No, you can't . . . _stop_!" Her panic reemerged as Sands only paused. "Please don't go away. Please? No one's ever stuck with me for so long before. And if you leave . . . if you leave. . . . I just, I remember things better with you! I do." He didn't seem convinced. _I look at you, and I . . . and I'm home!_ "Please . . . I don't want that to go away. I don't want to forget."

**_You're home, Teresa? What kind of bullshit is that? This is not home. Carlos is home._**

"Oh god, please stop."

It was the desperation in that final plea that made Sands turned around. Tess was the picture of someone who'd run out of options. Her head was cradled in her hands, and she was bent over as if to protect herself from invisible foes.

Sands liked desperation. It made people more amenable to his "suggestions." Survival instinct would make people treat with the devil, only because the alternative was unthinkable. Part of him didn't like hearing Tess in desperation, but he crushed it. If desperation was what it took to tie her to his purpose, then he'd use it.

"Were you talking to me, niña?"

She shook her head. "No. No, it won't stop. It's so lazy. It wants to give in, to stay."

The mention of Carlos' little confession made Sands' eyes narrow. He didn't believe for a second that Tessa's cousin had any concern for Tess herself. At least, not any more than Sands had for her.

Moving slowly, he started walking towards the bed. "Well, is that what you want?"

Tess made note of the dangerously silky note in his voice and shook her head. _Tirado? _No. No. She didn't want to stay here. The voice . . . she swore it fed off heat and hostility. That's why it wanted her to stay, because it was more powerful here. It had more memories to work with. More tangled thoughts and emotions. "No, I can't."

"Then what is it you want?"

"Remind me. Had I really come out here to Los Vegas to work on a story? Who –"

"Tessa. No more quotes." He was standing at the foot of the bed now, close enough that she had to crane her head to maintain eye contact. "What do you want?"

_Not fair. Not fair._ He'd stripped her last defense from her. Why did he have to do that? Why was truth so important to him? "I . . . I need an anchor." Her voice was weak. "I'm getting lost. It's too much the same. I forget when and where I am. The kids are too far away to . . . to . . ." She gave up, simply breathing shallowly through her mouth and hoping he understood.

Well that was interesting. She was entrusting him of all people with her mental health. Sands thought that he perhaps understood a little. "You've never been alone for so long, have you? Not when you've had to do something this difficult."

Tess shook her head slowly. "No. I was a child . . . but . . . I wasn't allowed . . . I _couldn't_ like Ajedrez. Or my father. I had them to hate. The rules were . . . were very clear. I made friends in college, and they helped me when everything fell apart. When I ran away, I had such a clear goal, and I still had family to hate. Then I had another goal – to help you. And then I had the kids depending on me. But now . . ." She stopped, unsure of what to say. "Now I'm pulled in too many directions, none of them stronger than the other. No matter what I do, I betray someone. I ruin someone's life. I cause someone to be killed. There's no clear rules. There's no routine. There's no one to hate. I get lost."

"And you want me to find you?"

Tess shivered at the emptiness of his voice. There was no indication of whether he wanted to play hero to her distressed psyche or not. "I-I need _someone_ to find me."

Sands bit the inside of his lip as if thinking, then nodded. "Alright. But you have to remember something."

"What?" As long as she could at least remember what side she was on, she'd remember anything.

"This is just fucking. It's physical. Nothing more." Sands had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing bitterly at that. If Tess could remember what side she was on, and he could convince himself that this was purely physical, then perhaps they had a greater chance of coming out of this intact that he'd begun to believe. "Can you accept that, niña?"

Yes. She could. Because to ask for anything more was to risk her sanity when things came to a natural conclusion. "I've never asked for more," she informed him seriously, scooting up the bed. _It's too dangerous._

Her little quip caused Sands' temper to leap, but he beat it down. If things were going to stay physical, he couldn't even afford anger.

Climbing onto the bed, he pulled her to him, kissing her thoroughly and never giving her the option to say she didn't want this right now. He'd show her. If he had to struggle with remaining distant, then she was sure as hell going to struggle to.

He never even once considered that she already was. Or that it was hurting her.

* * *

**Quotes:** Sylvia Plath; JRR Tolkien; John Vander Wiel; Dylan Thomas; Finding Nemo; Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas

**Author's Thanks: **as always, many thanks to all my readers and reviewers, not to mention; **normal human being** (Aww, that's sweet. I love you too. I suppose there's lots more Carlosity to be found in this chapter, but the guy is so much fun to write that way. Knife twisting is a specialty of mine, so anticipate more. I hope this chapter was just as good as the last.); **velly** (I did finally update. I do try. I really do. As long as Sands stays in character, then I consider each chapter a job well done. And yes, I do plan to leave you all hanging until you can't stand it any more and I start getting death threats.); **Isola** (Yes, Sands _is_ on very slippery territory, but that's always the most fun to write.); **Kontara** (Thank you for taking the time to review.); **Dreamgirl21147** (Well, as I've said, it's hard to think of someone as a blood sibling when they're not. nods and smirks Lots of development coming.); **Raven** (wow! You win the prize for longest review in awhile. I love long reviews, so don't worry about ever putting me to sleep. ; ) I'm really, really, really glad that you're finding the story to be real and natural. Sometimes I have my doubts over passages that are difficult to write, but I hope that's just because I take too long to find the perfect word, and not me being stuffy as I sometimes think I border on being. Don't worry about me not writing. I promise to finish all works in progress first.); **SS** (hmm, good question. Sooner or later Tess will have her day, I promise.)****


	15. Dinner Conversation and Pillow Talk

**Author's Note: wow – I'm so sorry this took a month to get out, but the end is coming faster than I thought it would. I had to make sure that this chapter was perfect before I could post it; there was so much that needed to go into it that it took a bit longer than I thought it would.**

**I hope this is satisfying and engaging nonetheless. Please let me know what you're all thinking before I think that only eight people are reading this. ; )**

**Author's thanks at the end.**

* * *

****

"Where have you been?"

Tess felt a jolt of guilt scuttle along her spine at the abrupt greeting from her cousin. "I was getting supplies from town –"

"Yes, and Carlos let you leave five hours ago," Neva scowled, taking her delinquent cousin by the arm and dragging her into the house. "You're going to make us all late for dinner."

"But it's barely five and we don't eat until seven –"

"And tonight isn't a normal night. We have company. You need to get ready _now_. Go shower _por__ amor de Dios_, you look like you spent the afternoon running. You're a mess." Neva shoved her up the main stairs.

Tess went without arguing. Neva almost seemed nervous, and that was enough to make Tess do what she was told. If her militant cousin was nervous, that meant that their guest was probably someone that she and Carlos were going to be watching closely, and Tess had to play her part. If her part was that of a china doll or something else that was delicate and useless for anything other than to be admired . . . well, that was the way things went. She'd rather play useless than spy any day.

_Oh wait, I am a spy._ It was a bittersweet reminder; bitter because she'd been forced to become something she wasn't, and sweet because it was to herself and there was no reply. That suppressant she'd received had gone a long way towards restoring her peace of mind. Enough so that she could now doubt and second-guess all that she'd spilled to Sands. Not to mention whether they'd really made the agreement she thought they'd made.

Just the thought of that made her heart constrict a little. It was a foolish thing done out of weakness when she hadn't been right in her head. And she had the feeling that admitting to Sands that she'd made a mistake would be a tactical error. He already thought she was weak and coward. Why bother enforcing that idea?

_It's not entirely unpleasant. Is it?_ she asked herself as she pushed open the door to her room. _I mean . . . he at least understands that . . . that I'm not normal. And it doesn't seem to scare him._ Her voice might not have been around to object, but Tess knew what it would say anyway. Either she did scare/disgust/revolt Sands, but he put up with it to control her, or that no matter what, she would end up alone because Sands wasn't the sort of man to stay.

So if she knew that was true without having to be reminded of it, why was she doing this?

Absentmindedly, Tess stripped off her clothes in her bedroom instead of retreating to the safety of the bathroom, unaware that across the city Sands was having to break up a group of very frustrated guys. Not that she would have believed it if she'd known.

She hummed softly as she showered. One of the side effects of the suppressant she'd been given was that her mind wandered and her thoughts became sluggish. At the moment she counted that a blessing rather than a frustration. It meant she could set aside her problems until the next morning when her head would be clear again. Clear and blessedly empty for at least another twenty-four hours.

"They dined on mince and slices of quince,/Which they ate with a runcible spoon;/And hand in hand on the edge of the sand/They danced by the light of the moon,/The moon,  
the moon,/They danced by the light of the moon." It wasn't until absurd visions of owls dancing with kittens were running through her mind that Tess was able to snap out of the lethargy she'd been in. Just because there were no conflicting voices ringing in her ears at the moment didn't mean she could stand around and daydream. If the temperature of the water was any indication, she'd already been standing here for far to long.

With a great sigh, Tess forced herself to get out of the shower, towel off, and don her robe. If she were facing a formal dinner with her cousins and an important guest, then she was going to need all her wits around her. And that meant being able to concentrate on what was said and done, and what hidden meanings those things could carry. Just because someone was allowed into the house didn't mean that they were completely trusted. It just meant that it was safer to execute someone inside the house than outside it. And if she wasn't careful, that "someone" might end up being her.

* * *

An hour later, Tess reappeared downstairs, dressed in a gauzy green skirt with peach roses, and a silk shirt in a delicate light green. Her hair was bound back in a chignon, but was loose enough that it didn't pull at her temples. As always, the CIA-approved locket hung at her neck, and she was wearing her spook-endorsed glasses. Carlos probably wouldn't be happy with the presence of the latter, but she could plead a headache and get away with it. If something big was happening, Sands would probably want to know.

There was a buzz of activity in the back of the house. Tess could almost feel the formal dining room being polished and set. That more than anything else told her that the mystery guest was important. Or at least important enough to be intimidated into remembering just how powerful Carlos was.

_And once again, I attain knick-knack status,_ she thought morosely. She was just an extension of Carlos' influence. He'd found her when nearly all of Mexico's more unsavory population had failed. She was proof that he could fine anyone and wouldn't hesitate to track down those who turned on him. Now the question was, who did he want to remind of these things?

_It probably has something to do with the take-over. Perhaps he's invited a few choice allies or something, just to remind them of what they stand to gain. Or lose._ Tess knew that the Merída "occupation" of Zacatecas worried her cousin more than he wanted to admit. He didn't know how they'd discovered that he was on the warpath. The possibility of a leak was devastating. Bust she didn't think that the leak was inside the cartel. _It's Sands._ Not that she could be certain, but it was style to play opposing side of each other. _The man must love fluid dynamics. Watching one molecule impact and effect another, finally causing a chair reaction. He's the butterfly that flaps his wings in __Yellowstone__ and causes thunderstorms in __China__. And he knows it._

"Teresa? Is there a reason you're doing your best impression of the Venus di Milo in the middle of the hallway?" The quiet voice in her ear snapped her out of her reverie. While her attention had been fixed elsewhere, her feet had carried her through the house to the corridor outside her cousin's study. Carlos had just emerged from the private room along with several other men, along with one she recognized.

As she took stock of the situation, Carlos made excuses for her shocking lack of inattention. "Please forgive my cousin. She often finds herself occupied by philosophical thoughts and forgets her surroundings." Tessa's eyes landed on what appeared to be a American, hidden in the midst of the group, and decided that explained why Carlos was speaking English. Most of her attention, however, was fixed on a suave Mexican in an expensive silk suit and wingtip shoes.

"I remember," Giovanni Juarez said smoothly, working through the group to place a dry kiss on her knuckles. "Lovely and thoughtful. A man shouldn't ask for more in the fairer sex." There were several masculine chuckles, and a few whispered comments offering different – and obscene – opinions.

"Señor Juarez . . . it's a pleasure to see you again," Tess murmured, falling into character after a small nudge from Carlos.

"Ah, but the pleasure is mine." He winked, and Tess irrationally found herself letting go of any prejudices she had against the man. "And I would be forever in your debt if you would introduce me to the enchanting woman who is currently coming down the stairs."

_What?_ Tess turned and saw Neva coming down the stairway, and she had to admit that her cousin had certainly pulled out all the stops. _I guess she decided to leave security to her men tonight._ There was certainly no place to hide a weapon in the outfit Neva had donned. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress with a plunging neckline and satin piping. The only thing demure about the dress was the hemline, which reached the floor and was too long for a hidden thigh holster to be practical. Not to mention that Tess now felt decidedly dowdy.

"Tessa? Please, introduce señor Juarez to my sister." The dismissal and censure in Carlos' voice was plain to the trained ear. Tess smiled weakly, and led Juarez to the banister where Neva was waiting.

"Señor Juarez, please allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Nevada Velasquez. Neva, this is señor Giovanni Juarez, one of Carlos' business partners."

"Señor Juarez, I hear you're providing the weaponry for our little coup," Neva demurred as she presented a hand. Juarez just laughed.

"And you are just as straightforward as your brother, señorita Velasquez. And please, you may call me Giovanni." He kissed her hand, his lips lingering for considerably longer than they had on Tessa's knuckles.

"And you may call me Neva." She glanced at Tess and dismissed her. Tess stubbornly stayed nearby, trying to figure out the game being played. Had Neva and Carlos concocted this plan because they didn't trust Juarez, or was there simply a little too much chemistry between these two?"

"Neva? Such a plain name. I much prefer Nevada."

"But that's such an innocent, pure name. I'm afraid I'm anything but . . . innocent."

Tess rolled her eyes and turned to leave, running into Carlos. Most of the other men had been fobbed off on black and red clad "comfort women," so he was free to talk to her.

"I admit that you look very nice, querida, but Neva must not have explained tonight's dress code. You're much to casual. Please go up and change. And leave the glasses behind."

Tess flushed and nodded, moving towards the stairs. Before she could get there however, Carlos stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Don't draw attention to yourself. Go the back way. I expect your company in less than ten minutes, so be quick."

More than ten minutes later, Tess reappeared, wearing a long black gown. She hadn't bothered to change her hair or her necklace, but she'd added earrings and a silver and fake-sapphire broach than replaced the glasses as a camera. The straps were ties; the broach was over her left breast and she had put several heavy silver bangles on her right wrist to balance the look.

The first thing she did was report to Carlos, certain that if she didn't, that there would be consequences. And she was getting sick of those.

"_Perdon__,_" she murmured, interrupting a conversation between Carlos and four other men – leaders of very minor cartels if she had to guess. Or perhaps of major gangs in Guadalajara. The only difference between the two was the amount of money that flowed in and out.

"Ah, Teresa. I see that you have now had time to clean up from your many preparations today. Tell me, when do you expect your supplies?"

"Thursday," she murmured, keeping her eyes downcast. With the abundance of prostitutes and the lack of introductions, she thought it'd be safest not to seem too forward.

"Good. Now, let me make some introductions." Taking her hand in one of his, he gestured towards his audience with the other. "Teresa, these upstanding gentlemen are señores Alvarez, Crespo, Soler, and Heston. Gentlemen, this is my _prima_, Teresa Barillo, the last surviving member of the Barillo dynasty."

"Encantado de conocerle, mucho gusto," she murmured, nodding to each man in turn, but she paid the most attention to the Mr. Heston. _The American. The odd man out. I wonder why he's here._ He was in his fifties, with graying blonde hair and attentive eyes the light color of the sky at sunset.

Her cousin must have noticed her curiosity. "Perhaps you'd be interested to know that señor Heston is an attaché to the American consulate in Mexico City." Carlos' voice was bland, but his eyes were sharp. It appeared that for some reason, he expected this news to disconcerting her, and it was, but Tess had more experience in hiding her feelings than to let any alarm show in front of so many.

"This seems to be an odd place for you to dine then, señor Heston," Tess replied, her voice showing no more than mild interest when in fact she was wondering just how many crooked agents the US government had down here. "Are you a diplomat?"

"DEA. However, it seems that your cousin and I have the same attitude towards government paychecks and government pensions."

_Not to mention honor._ "I take it that means that if you decide to take a stroll in the gardens later, you won't be looking for marijuana amongst the floribunda."

This remark was met with soft laughter. "I think you were telling the truth earlier about the truth about the young lady," Heston said with a short bow. "But a surprise to find a dry wit to go with her soft tongue." Straightening, he continued, "I ask your permission to steal the young lady from you. It would please me to no end if I could actually follow the conversation." At Tessa's raised eyebrow he explained, "I might be an American attaché in Mexico, but I can't say I've had any luck with the language."

Carlos observed them both closely, but he apparently had no objections. He gave his blessings to the dinner paring, then pulled Tess away to meet and greet more of the guests. Of Neva and Juarez, there was no sign.

* * *

"So, what did you think, querida?"

"About what?" Tess sighed, sinking down into the nearest armchair. Dinner had been a long and drawn out affair, made extremely tedious by polite small-talk and a shocking lack of shop talk. If there had been a reason for sitting through it all, she might have been a bit more gracious, but there hadn't been. One might think that Carlos had just wanted to throw a dinner party for his closest cronies. Tess refused to believe that. Especially since she'd learned that all those present at the dinner had been invited to stay for the next two weeks. Carlos was planning something.

"About our guests. Did you observe anything that would make you believe that any of them are untrustworthy?"

"You mean other than their careers? I have to admit that I find it hard to trust gangbangers, turncoats, and double agents."

Carlos looked at her as if she were nuts. "When did you turn so respectable?"

"I don't know. Perhaps I'm just adverse to trusting mercenaries."

"I don't trust them either," Carlos replied as he lit a cigar, a smug look on his face. "That's why I'm paying each of them a small fortune while I also keep track of their families." Tess had been unprepared for that remark, so she was unable to keep the look of utter distaste from her countenance. Carlos caught it; for some reason he laughed. "What is it, mi nessita? Surprised you, did I?"

_My little fool._ Of course she was. She'd know – someplace she'd known – that her cousin could be ruthless. A cartel leader had to be merciless to be effective, and she'd already witnessed that side of him firsthand. But threatening innocents? Was she a party to this?

"Do they know?" she asked softly.

"They should. It's not anything they wouldn't do themselves." Carlos puffed away contentedly. "And before your gentle heart starts bleeding, remember that the Merídas have already tried the same thing. With you. Tea?"

"Uh. . ." The change of subject confused her. "Uh . . . no thank you. I'd actually like to go to bed now. I've had a long day." She started to stand up, but Carlos pushed her back down with a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll let you go soon, _bastante_, but we have a few things to settle first." He glanced at his watched. "Now, where's Neva? How long does it take to –"

"Longer than it takes you, I'm sure." This sly declaration came from Neva, who'd just entered the room.

"You look remarkably like the cat who got the cream," Carlos implied, looking pleased.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose I did." She straightened her collar which had been hanging askew. "Just give me a few more days and I think we'll know if Juarez is involved with the Merídas or not. These arms dealers are cunning and smooth, but not particularly smart."

"I have every confidence in your acting abilities, mi zorrita."

Tess felt sick. Using your body for such intimate yet utterly meaningless and mercenary purposes disgusted her. Using sex as a means to ensure loyalty –

**_That's not what you were saying a few hours ago. . ._** The rebuke was nothing more than a whisper, but it was enough to make Tess blush profusely and defend herself.

_Yes, but at least there's some sort of . . . empathy between us. Not like –_

"Aww . . . I think we just embarrassed the little virgin." Tessa's eyes snapped up from her lap and focused on Neva, taking in the obvious dare of her words and stance. Not to mention the blatant disregard on her face. "That's why you're not on _cogida_ duty," she continued smugly. "Not to mention Carlos is a possessive son of a bitch."

"That will be _enough_, Neva," Carlos commanded, his own cheeks glowing a shade of dusky red. "Save the pillow talk for the bedroom and give me your impressions of our other guests."

* * *

It was after midnight when Tess was finally allowed to retire. Her body was exhausted, and her mind as sluggish from the meds still, but she couldn't even contemplate _looking_ at the bed. It was too big; both she and her thoughts would get lost in it. And she so desperately needed to think while she still had a silent mind.

_Why am I here?_ she asked herself as she began to pace. _Not **how** am I here, but **why**? What am I trying to do? What's my objective?_

Her wandering feet led her to the waste basket, and her restless hands started gathering harmless clutter; a pencil, a hair clip, a scrap of a to-do list, a tube of lip stick, a pack of matches – they were all thrown away in the same unfeeling manner as she concentrated on making her thoughts flow.

_My objective is . . ._ A water bottle, CD, and nail clippers all fell into the trash can. _My objective is to stop my family from hurting others. From becoming too powerful. That has always been my goal._ Dixie cup, compact, notebook. _Father is dead. Ajedrez is dead. They are no longer a threat._ She set the now full waste basket down and wandered over to her dresser. _Carlos is still a threat. __Neva__ is still a threat._ She pulled a drawer open and moved aside some papers. All her clothes hung in the closet, but this drawer had all the papers and files she wanted to keep . . . and an unused gift from Carlos. A handgun, never fired.

_What must I do to go home?_ she asked, almost mesmerized by the sight of reflections dancing up and down the barrel of the weapon.

"End the threat." The answer was a mere whisper, matched by the slow, gentle motion of her hand as she reached out and gripped the handle. The weight of the small firearm was shocking and comforting at the same time; grounding almost. "To go home, I must end the threat."

_-Knock, knock, knock-_ Quiet though it was, the knock at the door started Tess. She dropped the gun as her hands opened in surprise, but she caught it before it could hit the floor. That wouldn't be good; she couldn't remember if the safety was on or not. "Teresa? I know you're not asleep – the light from your room is shining under the door."

"Carlos –" Just a shot. Neva would come running. Another shot. Others would come. She'd tell them Neva had challenged Carlos for control. With the brand of citizen here, they'd believe her. And then they'd take off to start planning how to take over the former Barillo territory.

It wasn't something that any of them hadn't already considered.

"Just one shot," she murmured. "Get started, go home."

There was another knock, more impatient this time. "Teresa, are you going to let me in, or are you pouting?"

Tess opened her mouth, ready to let Carlos in, but her throat was too dry. She worked her mouth furiously, trying to create some moisture. The gun raised to point at the door as she swallowed hard. "Co– "

-_Ring!-_

_What?_

-_Ring!-_

The sound of the phone was distracting her.

-_Ring!-_

If she didn't answer . . . .

"J-Just a moment," she called as she moved across the room as if against a current. Holding the gun in her left hand, she picked up her cell phone in her right. "H-Hello?"

"Damnit, Tessa. If we wanted an assassination, we would have sent in someone trained for it."

"S-Sands?" Her nerves were shot to hell. Cold-blooded murder was harder than it looked.

"You going to go back to your kids and tell them you're a murderer, custida? I mean, I know how much you enjoy death, but is this really the way you want to go?" Sands' voice was dry and critical. Not to mention deadly serious.

"I want to go home," she agreed softly.

"Not like this, you don't," he contradicted. "Put the gun away."

"Gun?"

"I'm not blind anymore, niña, so don't play stupid. You're still wearing your broach. I can see the gun in your hand." Tess looked down and saw he was right.

"How much longer?" she suddenly asked, lowering the weapon so the muzzle pointed towards the floor.

Sands didn't pretend not to understand. "If your loving cousin was telling the truth? Two weeks. Just don't do anything stupid."

_I can manage that. I think._ "Put the gun away?"

"Yeah . . . put the gun away." His voice was very quiet, very weary. Tess could see him sitting in a dark room, cell phone to his ear, lit cigarette in one hand and his glasses on his face. She wondered what he looked like without contacts.

"Okay. Good-night, Giovanni."

"What?"

"Sands. Good-night, Sands." Tess hung up, leaving Sands feeling very peculiar and very empty.

* * *

Carlos was getting concerned by the time Tess actually got around to answering the door. He had to admit that he'd hoped that her visit to town would help calm her … make her more open to his cautious advances, but the opposite had happened. She was even more skittish now.

_Well, nothing risked, nothing earned._ He'd give Tess her head, but he was going to keep reminding her that he was always close.

However, the woman who answered the door didn't look like she needed the reminder. She was pale, haggard, and trembling.

"Querida, what's wrong?"

"I . . . uh . . . if you can't get rid of the family skeleton, you might as well make it dance." She was wringing her hands.

"What?"

_Sands wouldn't ask that. Wait. Bad thought. Don't think that way._ "It's uh, it's nothing. Bad dreams – bad memories – dancing a jig through my mind."

She wasn't making much sense. "You're exhausted," he pronounced. Tess wasn't impressed; she looked at him askance, as if he'd been dimwitted to say that. "Alright, forget it. Did I wake you?"

_From sleep? From insane thought?_ "No. I was just out of it." _Wrong thing to say!_ "Dozing," she corrected herself. "You know how it is."

"Well, you should do more than simply doze." He sighed regretfully. "Get some sleep. We've bust days ahead if we're to coordinate everything to our advantage."

_Of course._ "What about my trip to Zacatecas tomorrow –" Carlos frowned so deeply that she simply stopped.

"No. Absolutely not. It's not safe."

"But I need –"

He grabbed her chin before she could finish her protest. Her mouth snapped shut painfully even as her face was pulled up so he could match her glare for glare. "Order what you need from somewhere else, or send men out to get it. Zacatecas isn't safe. Hell, Guadalupe isn't even safe."

"So I'm a prisoner now –" Carlos tightened his grip, once again cutting off her words.

"You're mine to keep safe," he corrected. "It's what uncle would have wanted."

The barb hit its intended mark; Tess paled dramatically and sagged in his grip, but she didn't back down.

"What Father wanted is irrelevant. I'm a woman grown, Carlos. I've learned how to take care of myself." _Not to mention the pack of Feds watching my back._ "I've learned how to make my own choices. You don't have to bully me into doing what you want me to do."

If his words had reminded Tess of her position within the family, then hers were meant to remind him that she was only here because she chose to be. But his grip still didn't loosen, and she had to fight from physically prying his hand away. That would just be an admittance of how much she disliked his treatment of her. That it had the ability to disturb her. To keep this from being a weapon, she couldn't react.

"I'm not yours, Carlos. And I never will be if you keep doing this. I learned to dislike abuse as a child."

The words were an equivalent of a slap to the face or a bucket of icy water; Carlos' hand dropped back down to his side and Tess fought to keep from backing away. It was enough that she stood on one side of the doorway, and he in the other.

He was the one to finally clear his throat and break the tableau. "I'm sorry."

She remained silent, thinking, _You__ always are. At least you're better than Father in that way._

"You have thought about what I said this morning?"

_And everything that's been said since._ She responded to his words with an impassive stare.

"I see . . ." he murmured. "Then you have made a decision?"

_Yes. But it doesn't concern you._ Sands had advised her not to let Carlos know he didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. That would only make him more likely to listen to Neva's suspicions. So aloud she said, "No. I haven't."

"But you are considering it." Carlos' face was a perfect poker mask. She had no idea what he was thinking, and that in itself let her know that she probably didn't want to.

"I . . . I am not saying no." There! There it was! The briefest flash of triumph had lit in his eyes, only to be extinguished. Tess only grew more nervous. Especially when he bowed to her.

"Sleep well, Teresa."

"Y tú," she murmured, finally reaching for the door with the intent to close it in his face. This conversation had gone on for far too long, and she couldn't take any more of it without declaring that she already had a lover and was in no way ready to commit her life to a person she thought of as being as closely related as a factual blood-cousin. She didn't think that would go over well.

He inclined his head, then turned and walked off down the corridor. She watched him leave, ducking inside her room when his bodyguards came to meet him and he looked over his shoulder. For the space of a few seconds she leaned against the wall and listened, wanting to know if he was coming back or not, but she heard nothing more than crickets outside her window, and the rustle of new leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

_Are they gone? Or are they still there?_ Straining her ears, she finally heard well-shod footsteps retreating down the corridor. Silence once again reigned in the rarely-visited wing where the infirmary was and where she stayed.

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, she closed her door and locked it. Not wasting another moment, she retrieved a pill bottle from the medicine cabinet in her office and took one of the sleeping pills it contained. Shaking her head and rubbing her temples, Tess went back into her bedroom and climbed under the down duvet on her bed.

She'd thought enough for one night, and it'd done nothing but get her into trouble. Better to face temporary oblivion.

"Buena noche," she murmured to the shadows dancing on her walls. "Goodnight stars, goodnight air. Goodnight voices everywhere."

**_Goodnight _noises_ everywhere._**

_Whatever._

* * *

_Another dinner party,_ Tess signed, thoroughly sick of having to put on a nightly – and daily – performance for the sake of Carlos' plans. But at the same time, she remembered that each day of acting brought her a day closer to going home. Back to her life where the only thing she was truly responsible for was herself.

The voice had been right all those weeks ago when it'd said that Cora was more of a mother to her orphans than she was. Sure, Tess could bandage skinned knees, help with homework, read bedtime stories, etc., but Cora was the one who saw off and greeted home children every day. She was the one who chauffeured more often than not. She was the one who cleaned, and cooked, and packed lunches. . .

_That should be a relief,_ she sternly told her reflection in the mirror. _That **someone** is around to care for them. They don't need me as a mother._

**_But you want to be one. . ._**

_Ridiculous. What do I know of being a mother?_ Jack squat, that was what. She'd never even met her own mother – not that she now had a desire to – and the only feminine parental unit she'd ever seen in action had been grossly ineffective.

**_Then – _**

_– stop whining. Yes, I know._ She surveyed herself critically in the mirror.

**_I don't think there's anything wrong with you that sleep won't fix. Sleep – and go ahead and call me crazy – and perhaps _eating_._**

****_Why can't you be like other voices and just be paranoid? Or even delusional for that matter._

**_Fine. God told me that he wants you to suck it up and eat. Was that better?_**__

_Shut up._ Tess sighed again and left her room.

Carlos intercepted her on the way down the stairs. He'd been extremely solicitous since their last argument, apparently trying to prove to her that he would be better as an ally – or husband – than an enemy. Tess wasn't the least bit convinced. As far as she was concerned, the two were the same thing.

"You're not eating."

"What?" This was so far from what she'd been expecting from him that she was thrown for a loop.

"You've lost weight. That dress used to actually fit you."

_Crap._ How was she supposed to explain that she couldn't eat most of the fancy, calorie-ridden foods that he liked to see on his table? (She was ignoring for the moment his criticism of how she was dressed.) He'd ask why not, and that would lead to explanations she wanted – _needed_ – to avoid. But he was waiting for one nonetheless.

I guess I've been so busy that I've skipped a few meals now and then."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the issue either.

Dinner proceeded in much the same way that it normally did, with the exception that Mr. I'm-a-crooked-DEA-agent Heston had left the compound that morning to return to the embassy in Mexico City. She hoped Sands had checked that man out.

**_But then again, your Agent Sands is used to playing both sides of the line himself. He might show mercy to a fellow turncoat._**

Tess turned her attention to her salad and the quiet conversation buzzing around the room like lazy flies. If she concentrated _really_ hard, she could almost see the words hovering like verbal fog over the diners.

**_You know its true._**__

_I don't care._

**_Why?_** The question was loaded with wager anticipation and shadows of disapproval.

Tess hesitated before answering. _Because it doesn't concern me. Now let me eat. Carlos is already suspicious._ Tonight, in the absence of Mr. Heston, she was seated next to her cousin, and although he was in the midst of some rallying speech about their triumph over the Merídas five days hence, he still was managing to keep an eye on her.

To her great surprise though, the meal was largely things she could eat with a clear conscience. Small green peppers stuffed with cream cheese, rice, beans, fry bread, and pibil. It was a simple meal, much the same as she could remember eating as a very young child. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to find Carlos watching her as he spoke to the man on her other side.

**_He's wooing you._**

_It doesn't matter._

**_You should stay._**

_I'm not going to._ Ripping off a piece of her fry bread, she scooped up come salsa verde and ate it happily. For the moment she was hungry, her defenses were down so stress wouldn't steal her appetite, and she wanted to eat. The bread had a nutty taste that she tried to place, but eventually gave up on. It was too faint for her to be able to name.

The topic of conversation moved from the upcoming take-over to Brazilian cocaine runners who were absorbing cartels and gangs along the Gulf. One of the men at the table had "business" concerns in that region and was prophesizing that the Brazilian _drogue corredores_ would soon put a major dent in marijuana production in that area. Talk turned to what could be done about that – not immediately, but for plans to be put into action by the end of the year. After all, with the influence they were about to gain, they'd be able to deal with the threat. None of them questioned that they would win.

Tess wondered if they ever considered that anyone else would take advantage of the hell that was going to be raised. The entire populations of at least two provinces had to know what was about to go down, not to mention other cartels, gangs, Mexican government officials, the AFN, and of course, certain branches of the American government.

_But then again, it's best that they don't suspect anyone else is going to come in and clear both parties out._ The US was going to handle the Barillo contingent – for their part in the attempted death of a US government officer – and the Mexican AFN was going to take the Merídas. If Carlos or Neva suspected there was more going on than they had planned for . . .

"Señor Juarez, are you feeling alright?" The sounds of someone coughing heavily made Tess look up from the pork she'd been staring at. Juarez – inseparable at Neva's side as always – was reaching for a glass of water with a hand that trembled from the force of his coughs. Neva was the one who'd asked the question, but she looked totally unconcerned.

Juarez shook his head, and drank from the glass; water dribbled down the front of his shirt. Tess noted with some alarm that he was having trouble breathing and that his lips and the skin under his fingernails was turning blue. Without a second thought, she stood, ready to go help –

– and Carlos jerked her back down into her seat.

Alarmed, Tess turned to him and tried to free herself. "Carlos, he's having an allergic reaction or something – "

"You will take your seat and keep it." His voice was low, but it carried down the length of the table.

"He might die," she said angrily, her fingers working to pry his from her arm.

"That's the idea, ratón." Neva looked very much like a satisfied snake for some reason. Over the muttered words of unrest coming from the other diners, she informed everyone, "Juarez was supplying the Merídas with weapons, just as he was us. Hedging his bets so that no matter who won, he'd still have regular – and big – customers." She smirked. "Too bad he also let slip that he has a problem with peanuts."

The faces of those around the table went hard and their soft protests stopped while Juarez's face when red and he started gasping for breath.

"Stop this!" Tess yelled, trying to stand again. Carlos simply stood with her and then pulled her against his body, where he wrapped both arms around her to impede her struggles.

"He betrayed us, Teresa," he whispered in her ear. "This is what he earned. This is what all traitors earn. You know that. Father taught that to you just as he did to the rest of us."

"But –"

"But nothing." Juarez was going glassy-eyed. "He knew too much about our plans. We couldn't let him leave. And his death will serve as a warning to the rest of the people around the table. Besides, we've already received our supplies from him. He was expendable."

"No one is – "

"_Everyone_ is expendable," he hissed. "Now stop disobeying me before I start to believe Neva when she say that _you're_ expendable."

Tess stopped struggling, although there was nothing she could do to still her struggles. Carlos let her go with one last warning look, then turned to his guests.

"I propose we move to another room for brandy and cigars." There were murmurs of approval this time as the men all dismissed themselves. "Teresa, you will stay behind with Neva and record señor Juarez's time of death." He left the room.

Tess stood by her chair, still longing to do something to help the man. He was a cretin, and too charming for his own good, and perhaps underhanded, but so what? He was still _alive_. She could still save him. But Neva sat in her chair next to the man and polished her handgun with the napkin she'd plucked from Juarez's lap. She looked up at Tess and said, "You're lucky you're not joining him."

**_This is bad._**__

_No shit._ Neva was dressed in black tonight, and Tess now knew why. Tonight she wasn't just Carlos' sister and chief of security. Tonight she was an assassin too.

Swallowing, she asked the question she knew she was supposed to. "Why?"

"I don't trust you, _prima_." The word had more than its fair share of mockery in it. "You were never one to be party to something like this. You were the little do-gooder, the rebel. The weak one. I don't care what you've said, or how you've behaved – you're not here to help. And as soon as I can prove it, it'll be you in that chair."

Tess looked at Juarez just as his chest deflated. She waited for him to breath again, but he didn't. She waited longer. Nothing.

In a daze she slowly walked towards the corpse. Her job had been given to her – ensure that Juarez was really dead. Her fingers found his pulse, and she felt a thrill of hope when there was something there. It was faint and erratic, but his heart hadn't stopped yet. If she could just –

"Is he dead yet?" Neva inquired indolently.

"No. I could – " Her words were cut off by the sharp report of a gunshot. She stepped back as blood splattered over her hand. Stunned, she looked to her cousin.

"He was taking too long," she said offhandedly. "Let's go. I'll make sure someone comes in here and cleans up the mess."

* * *

It was after midnight when Tess snuck out of the house. After leaving the dining room, she'd reported to Carlos that Juarez was dead. He'd nodded, not particularly caring, and carried on a conversation with another man about Cuban cigars. Disgusted, Tess had gone back to her room, and taken an hour-long bath, scrubbing at the hand that had been splattered with Juarez's blood.

That had been hours ago, and she couldn't relax. Neva's little warning had put her too on edge. Neva was too close to finding the truth, and if she did, it'd mean Tessa's life. And she didn't want to die.

**_Idiot,_** her voice seethed as she went downstairs and outside, walking to the garage.**_ This isn't going to do anything to allay any suspicions._**

_I'm just going to go for a drive. I have to. I can either clean until there's nothing left in my room, go for a drive, or explode. Those are your choices._

_**You're **_**not_ going for a drive. You're going to see _him.**__

_What if I am? Do you honestly think anyone is going to notice that I'm gone? I'll be back before it gets light._She nodded to the man responsible for guarding the cars, and he let her by. Apparently Carlos hadn't actually enforced his threat to keep her under house-arrest. That was good._ If he wants me to keep helping, he'll help me calm down. He doesn't have a choice either._

* * *

" – show signs of second-thoughts. Apparently Juarez served his purpose as a warning. The rest follow DeSilva, and he's determined to be the one you put in charge of Jalisco province."

Carlos nodded as Neva gave him her impressions of how the evening had went. "I'll have to think about that. DeSilva is ruthless, but he also has ambitions. I'd have to either be sure of him, or place one of my own men in his network."

"That'd be smart anyway. You should have spies with all your men."

"It's spendy," Carlos murmured, but he nodded anyway. "It's spendy but I'll soon have the money anyway." He wearily paced back and forth in his office; it was late and he wanted to go to bed. "Tell me, how did –" He was interrupted by the sound of a car starting.

"I told you she'd leave," Neva murmured, going to stand at the window.

"You have someone ready to follow her?" He was displeased that it was necessary, but even he could see that her behavior was suspicious. It could be nothing, but the risk was too great. He had to know.

"Yeah. I've got Hector on it. All those years working covert operations comes in handy at times. He'll report to me when she comes back."

"I'll expect a full report after breakfast. Have Hector there if you have to."

"And if I'm right about her? Are you going to do what you have to?"

Carlos shook his head. "No. Not yet. First we'll remove every single support she has outside of the family and see if that makes a difference. But if we can't break her, it may come to that."

* * *

" – I'm sorry but you can't go in there –"

Tess brushed past the agent that was voicing the protest. He tried to stop her; she twirled and broke his nose. Her life was in danger, so she didn't give a damn what the rules were. She was going to see Sands.

Other agents came rushing out of a room when they heard the commotion. Two of them managed to catch Tessa's arms, and she found herself trapped. _Everywhere I go I'm trapped,_ she thought, still trying to free herself. There was a satisfying crunch as she stomped on a bare foot, but another agent came forward to restrain her before she could break free.

"Hold her," someone commanded, coming forward. It was the doctor who'd treated her the last time Tess had come here. She had a syringe in her hand.

"No!" Tess yelled, fighting wildly now. "I'm not crazy so just back the hell off." Her protests were ignored. "Stop!"

The door to Sands' room flew open, revealing a very sleepy, very disheveled, and very unhappy agent. Everyone froze as he surveyed the scene in the hallway; his eyes finally landed on Tessa and he raised one sardonic eyebrow in enquiry.

"When men gather for battle,/ravens fill the skies,/and wait to sup on war spilled-blood/and feast upon men's eyes," she said, trying not to pant.

"Teresa. . ." he said warningly, glancing towards agent Maddox. It was clear that he'd have her drugged unless she proved that she wasn't raving.

"I just had my life threatened," she said. "What were you expecting me to do?"

Sands nodded, and then caught the eyes of the men holding her. She found herself released a mere second later. Rubbing her arms where they'd been held, she allowed Sands to usher her into his room.

He closed the door behind them, ignoring the looks of his agents. "Chica, _I've_ threatened your life before and I've never seen you act like this."

"But you didn't mean it. And the few times you did, you didn't really have the means, now did you?" she asked. "I can't say the same for that pack of murderers I'm living with."

Sands shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"

_Keep me safe!_

Her silent plea wasn't heard though. "You've been there for months. Don't tell me now that you can't last four more days."

_I'm scared!_

_**He doesn't care.**_

"Don't make me go back tonight," she whispered.

"And just where do you expect me to keep you?"

Instead of answering, Tess walked forward a few steps until she could rest her palms against his bare chest. "Don't make me go back tonight," she repeated, looking up to meet his eyes. The room was dark and she couldn't see if he was wearing his contacts or not, but it didn't matter at the moment.

He sighed, but his own hands came up to rest on her shoulders. "You're playing a dangerous game, niña."

_Everything is dangerous._ She leaned forward until their chests were lightly pressed together. "Don't make me leave."

The third time was obviously charmed.

The man sitting outside the apartment complex on a motorcycle was not. He was too busy taking notes.

* * *

**Quotes:** George Bernard Shaw; Margaret Wise Brown; Holly Lisle

**Author Thanks:** first, thanks to **normal human being** (once the story is done, I'm more than willing to hand Carlos over to you to do with what you will. And yes, you can also smack Sands once the story is done. Don't worry about ranting – it's fun to read. And amusement makes me write faster. ; ) So get to it.); **Raven** (Tess is just a bit unlucky when it comes to men. I wonder who's to blame for that. looks angelic I had to let Tess and Sands come to some sort of understanding eventually. No relationship stays static without dying, and that's certainly not what I wanted. Unfortunately, some relationships are also built on lies . . . although that's one thing that can eventually be solved. And Sands may _perhaps_ be a _little_ jealous. rolls eyes at the vast understatement Carlos is a fun guy to write. He's the guy next door that grew up to the girl next door…and her father. They're family, but not related. He knows that she understands the life she has to live, but he can't understand the one she wants to live. It's so much fun. Eventually I was going to have to rip Sands' control away, because that's when he truly started to shine in OUATIM. As a cell-phone addicted manipulator, he was a jerk. As a blind pistolero, he was almost likeable – although Chicle boy had a lot to do with that.); **Dreamgirl21147** (Are you hurt? Did you fall out of your chair? Thank you so much for the compliments and I'm sorry for taking so long. I hope this chapter made up for it.); **Shannon** (I try to use a bit of variety in my quotes, and then I remembered that Sands was a little hooked on F&L while he was medicated in the last story, so I decided that Tess had heard it so many times that she'd have bit memorized, so there we are. I'm glad you're finding that I'm managing to keep Sands in character. That's one of my biggest concerns while writing. As for Tessa's babies ….. I'll leave that one alone for the time being.); **Merrie** (again I update while you're gone. Seems like I'm not the only one that's distracting. Perhaps you'll get a lot of your own stories written while I'm gone. ; ) As for Carlos – oh good! You hate him! : D I've never really written a villain before, so I'm glad this one is good. The angst here is all your fault, I'm sure. I never wrote angst – or at least not a lot – before I "met" you.); **Kontara** (can't have the two leads getting together too soon. That would be anticlimactic. I'm very glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope you liked this one.); **SS** (should I ever have books for sale, I'm sure I'll post on JA, and you'll see it. ; ) And this chapter might eventually have extra bits, but I want to get a chapter of FS out before I leave.); **C.J.** **Davis** (I'm glad you're still reading! I'm also glad that you're still enjoying it and that I'm managing to entertain you.)


	16. It All Falls Down

**Author's Note: Good news – I've got another chapter ready to be typed up once I get a chapter of "Fractured Secrets" written. Bad news – haven't gotten to work of FS, and this story is starting to wind down with a vengeance. We're in the last third or do. Review if you've got time, you won't be able to for much longer. ; )**

**Author's thanks at end.**

* * *

They were in Carlos' study. It was six in the morning, and Neva had done as he'd asked and roused him as soon as there was word about Tess. As he stood with his back to the room, studying an original Rembrandt, he regretted that.

"All right," he murmured, more to himself than to Neva or Hector. "You are sure she was inside this apartment building all night." Self-delusion only went so far, and this was pushing his boundaries and his temper to the breaking point. "I asked a question," he snapped when no one answered.

Hector nodded and cleared his throat, clearly unhappy to be the subject of his superior's ire, but also knowing that an answer was expected. "I watched all night. No one came or went."

"And the other entrances?" This was growing more and more to his distaste by the second.

"I secured them, señor. Blocked one with a dumpster, and barred another. No one could have gotten out those ways. And the Doc's car was in front of the building from the time she entered it until she left. No other cares left or entered the lot. There _weren't_ any other cars, although there seemed to be some parked in the garage of the adjacent building. I didn't see any signs of occupation in that one."

"What was she doing in there?" For the time being, Carlos let that small oddity go. He was much more concerned with what Tessa may have been doing.

"What do you think she was doing, hermano?" Neva's voice and question were both heavily laden with sarcasm, but it was in defense of her brother. What other reason did a young single woman have for staying all night in an apartment building not her own? Was Carlos really going to force himself to hear it?

"I don't know, usted," Hector continued after a sidelong look at both siblings. If a war was about to start, he wanted to have his report done and be long gone before it did. "I tried to get inside, but the doors were all locked. Very unusual for that part of town. And I saw at least one security camera."

"What part of town was this in?" Carlos was frowning and pacing.

"Calle Arenas. Near the red-light district."

Neva watched as her brother came to a sudden decision. "Neva. I want you to find out as much as you can about our cousin. I want to know more about what she's been up to for the past five years than that she simply disappeared off the radar. Bully some of those families she was seeing in Culíacan if you have to. Contact Mr. Heston and have him check for Teresa Adame, not Teresa Barillo. When we were young, she was always talking about ditching her last name."

His orders to Hector were: "I'm going to give Tessa the opportunity to leave again today. Get a bug from Neva and plant it on her, or get a tracking device on her car. I want to know what she's doing and where she's going. We're going to put a stop to it. You can leave." Carlos turned in dismissal and Hector gladly left, but Neva stayed behind. She took a seat in an armchair and waited to be acknowledged.

"I dismissed you, Neva."

She said nothing.

"I know you want to say it. About Teresa."

Still Neva stayed silent. Carlos probably _did_ know what she was going to say, and it would be ever so much more convicting if he admitted it to himself instead of having to hear it from her. And if he was refusing to look at her, then he was already struggling with the truth. That was good. After all the hell he'd put her through about voicing her doubts, she wanted to see him squirm.

"How can I blame her for being human? And its not as if she's selling us out." The drug lord sounded sulky and demanding at the same time, very much like the child that'd been shipped off to military school so very long ago.

"Is that what your instincts are telling you?" _Because mine are screaming warnings._ Tess was hiding something, and secrets were dangerous.

Carlos grimaced. "My instincts tell me that if we don't get tangible evidence of where Tessa's loyalties lie, then she needs to be neutralized. She knows too much about our plans to just be set free."

_That_ surprised Neva. "You'd have her taken care of?"

Another grimace from her brother as he raked his hands through his hair. "Nit in the way you mean, no. If it turns out she has a lover, we'll discredit him and ensure that her interest in him is killed."

"And if she's working against us? What then?"

"She's not."

His stubborn reply infuriated her. Standing as if for combat, she yelled, "¡Por Dios, Carlos! Stop blinding yourself!"

"You're out of place!" His enraged reply matched hers.

"I'm your hermanasita," she reminded him hotly. "Your little sister. You watched out for me after our parents were killed; I know you better than anyone. If my place isn't at your side, I don't know where I fucking belong. And I know trouble when I see it. _Tess_ is trouble. She –"

"She's family," he coldly decreed. Neva could see his knuckles growing white where he was gripping the edge of his desk.

"Then you're a sick bastard for panting after her."

She'd pushed too far this time. "Leave," he commanded before he could hurt her.

"No. Not until you stop living in a fantasy." Neva's sense of rebellion fueled her. Knowing that each word placed her life in danger – even from her own brother – was invigorating.

"And what fantasy would that be?" They stood glaring at each other over the desk before Carlos purposely seated himself, a silent command for her to continue. Neva did not follow his example.

"One," she held a finger up. "Teresa is no blood relation of ours. Uncle decreed that we were family, and so it was. But he's dead, Carlos, and all his arrogant proclamations died with him.

"Two, Tess _did not choose_ to be here. She let herself be caught, but that could mean a million things. What the truth is, is that she holds no love for any of us. She's here out of duty, we don't know what to, and we don't know what pressures outside the family have been brought to bear on her. She's unpredictable. We're starting a cartel war in _days_ and we don't know what she's going to do. But we do know she hates violence, and that makes me wonder why she's here.

"Three – she doesn't love you, doesn't want to know you, and barely likes you. I can see it in her eyes even though she tries to hide it. No matter what you do, you won't be able to dement any kind of alliance with her, and you certainly won't convince her to whore in you bed –"

_CRACK!_

Neva stood speechless, unable to absorb the fact that Carlos had just slapped her. He, on the other – still raised – hand, ignored that he had.

"Teresa will do anything if she has no other choices. Now get out."

* * *

Tess wanted to scream. She wanted to throw expensive crystal against the wall, to go into Carlos' office and tell him that she was screwing him over, to get into a knock-down, drag-out fight with Neva. Anything to break the awful tenseness that was stifling the air in her lungs.

She'd first noticed an air of watchful expectation when she'd arrived home. _Perhaps I'm imagining things,_ she'd though. After all, the price of her truancy was a thorough beating, but nothing happened. Everyone was still abed.

_Carlos hasn't learned I left yet._ That was the most reasonable explanation. He'd made his feelings clear on the matter of leaving without permission or escort. So she'd waited in her room, waited to be called down to account for herself.

The call never came. Neva came and went on several missions, once coming by to tell Tess that Carlos would be in meetings all day, but that Tess was free to come and go as she pleased.

_Something's not right,_ she brooded, straightening her fanatically spotless room and trying to ignore the tension that wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. _Does he suspect something? And if he does, how close to the truth can it be? Is he doing anything to find out more?_ Without answers to these questions, Tess sat on her bed and did nothing. But the urge to flee back to safety, back to where she'd just come from, was strong. Too strong to ignore.

* * *

Tess thought – and Sands had assured her – that this one time, she had escaped notice. What Sands hadn't told her was that he was lying. There was no way that security at the hacienda was so lax this close to Carlos' initial strike at the Merídas. But saying so to Tess – especially in the state she'd arrived in – would have been counterproductive.

As was routine and policy, some of Sands' agents had gone hunting the moment Tessa had shown her face. The Company had decided that she was too much of a risk no matter what side she was working for, and considering that at any time Tess could be too distracted to notice a tail, Sands had agreed to the searches. The only thing the men could find though, was that the back entrances and the ground floor fire escape had been blocked. Sands didn't like it any more than he'd waking to find Tessa's arm slung over his waist. It could have just been some neighborhood kids out causing trouble, but maybe it hadn't been. And if it hadn't, and it _also_ hadn't been someone his – highly trained – trackers could find. . . . It just gave him a bad feeling.

Tess had left several long hours ago, before the sun had even started to show above the horizon. The agent on wiretap detail had reported nothing unusual; no arguments, no fighting, no long silences that would indicate Tess had taken her necklace off. The video camera showed little more than her office – she hadn't been by to pick her glasses up yet.

"Go out again," he told several agents who were sitting around doing little more than using up oxygen. "Assume the building is being watched, so keep a low profile. Get fingerprints if you can find any, and run them through the FBI, CIA, AFN and local police databases. I want to know who was around here last night. Benders, you're in charge." The agents left, but Sands was far from done. "Weyhauser, Maddox, Newman. Come up with an alternate plan for pulling out quickly. Don't' be sentimental – just make sure you pull out as many people as you can without heroics and stupidity."

"Don't you already have scenarios set up for that, sir?" Only an agent as young and cocksure as Weyhauser would question an order. The older ones who still had the inclination to doubt had long ago learned to stop asking questions before they ignored their superiors and their orders. They called it self-initiation in the Company. It was lauded and looked down on by turns.

"I'll be staying behind to take care of Barillo, whatever that may entail. Make sure there's a long-range sniper's rifle in my trunk while you're at it." His eyes were burning and that put him in a bad mood. "And Weyhauser, by the way, the next time you question an order, tell me. That way I can shoot first and answer later." He grinned menacingly. "Now get the hell out of here."

The agents left, and Sands ran out of orders. With a silent groan of frustration that he'd quickly come to associate with the young agent, Sands left the operations room and went back to his for a shower.

Striped and smoking, he surveyed himself in the bathroom's cloudy mirror. His skin was shockingly white, even in the dim baña . . . except for his many scars. Each – no matter how old – had a faint pinkish tinge to them. Flicking some ashes off the end of his smoke and into the sink, he traced a long scar on his chest. It was a memento from a knife fight he'd gotten into on the first day of his senior year. He'd lost of course – he'd been naïve then – and he'd been suspended, but it'd been worth the lesson.

He exhaled; smoke fogged the mirror. When it cleared, his eyes were automatically drawn to the car on his bicep. It was part of a set. The other two were on his thighs. From time to time, the one on his right leg still ached. It'd come dangerously close to his knee; a few inches lower and he might have lost the leg entirely.

_But its a very good reminder to stay on my toes._ The thought held more than its fair share of excitement. All his plans – even if they had come from higher up – were coming together. A fight was in the air, even if he wasn't going to be in it. Or at least, he wasn't _supposed_ to be. These next few days would just be a beautiful sight to behold. Barillos and Merídas would fall like well-placed dominos.

There was just one element of this plan that reminded him a little too strongly of the Day of the Dead massacre – the unpredictable inside man. Or woman as the case might be.

_Tessa._ Sands sighed and took out his contacts. The world went grainy, but he was used to it. And there was a pistol close at hand should someone decide they could sneak up on him. Satisfied that he was safe for the moment, Sands climbed into the tiny shower and wet down.

Tess was the wild card in all this. He was reasonably certain that she was so eager to get home that she wouldn't do anything stupid . . . But nerves were funny things, and "should" rarely happened. Like he "should" know better than to even _consider_ staying behind for a civilian, even one he was involved with. He should not _care_ that his orders were to try to get her out – he'd disobeyed orders before, and Strauss had made the promise that she would come home, not him. He _should_ just find a safe vantage point and watch the collapse. And he should have _never_ let himself think that Tessa had risked her life for him, and certainly shouldn't have looked at their dysfunctional relationship in terms of what _he_ owed _her._

_Kill her or claim her._ He remembered having thought that months ago. Well, he was way past the point where he was going to kill her in cold blood, and he was considering going past the line where he'd let something or someone else take her life. Somewhere in the last months – damnit – her life had become his; his to do with as he pleased. And it pleased him to let her live.

But why? And what answer would ensure they both lived through the end of the week?

* * *

"We've got something." Neva breezed into Carlos' study as if their argument of the morning had never happened. "Vicente went back to that apartment building and talked to the manager. He's a total sot, so he didn't get _much_ from him, but enough."

Neva wasn't one to carry around papers, but she had a small stack of them now. "That building was condemned to be torn down five months ago, but two weeks after you had Tess brought to Culíacan, someone paid off the housing authority. Plans for demolition were discarded. Water, electricity, and phones were turned back on, and some local, out of work contractors were brought in to make the place livable. Vicente tracked one of the men down, and found out those had been his orders exactly." She locked her elbows and leaned forward on the desk. "_Livable,_" she stressed. "The middle man –"

"Middle man?"

"The contractor never met the owner and never saw any tenants. All he saw was a great deal of money from a gringo. Anyway, the middle man made it very clear that the outside of the building was to be left look as neglected as ever."

"There's more," Carlos realized, seeing that the sparkle of triumph in his sister's eyes was nowhere close to fading.

"Only the fifth floor was made habitable. But no one even moved into that until a week before we arrived in Guadalupe. The manager says there's about twelve of them, and they came with lots of storage boxes, but almost no furniture."

"And the manager?"

"Was hired while nursing a hangover and searching for enough pesos for another drink. He's paid to play dumb and keep his mouth shut, but he said that he's never been inside the apartments. They never leave all that the same time, and they never get visitors. Or at least, not more than one."

Smugness, sincerity, and seriousness were not looks that blended well, but that's what Carlos read on his sister's face. "Yes, Tessa. We know that. What else did he have to say?"

"He said that Tess was the first and only visitor he's seen. That the first day she came storming in, she demanded to know what room a certain 'Giovanni Tirado' was in. And when next he saw her, she was looking distinctly . . . tousled."

Carlos stood and tucked a gun into his shoulder holster. "What room?"

Neva didn't answer; she raised an eyebrow and glanced at the weapon. "A crime of passion or are you just defending the lady's honor?"

"What room, Neva?" It was a command, not a request.

"Room 5C."

He nodded. "I want you to get one of the girls, get her in working clothes, and take her down there. Don't get her into señor Tirado's room until I contact you."

"You mean when Tess decides to visit."

Carlos sent her a withering look even though she was absolutely correct. "Just be ready."

"You – hell, we both – should be focusing on other things, Carlos. Or have you forgotten we have a _very_ big, _very_ important fight coming up? Leave this until later –"

"She's mine." The ice in his voice was even more arresting than the hottest temper. "She'll stop whoring herself before the day is out. Now, obey me or I'll find a new second."

_I wish you would._ "She's going to ruin you, Velasquez. It's not going to be pretty." _And you're not taking me with you._

Neva left.

Carlos paced.

Sands decided issue orders for a search before taking a shower.

Tess couldn't take it any more. She got ready to leave.

* * *

Since only his people had access to his room, and none dared enter without his permission, Sands walked out of the bathroom still damp from his shower and wearing nothing more than a threadbare towel. It was to his great surprise then, that he found a woman lounging on his bed. A woman who was not Tess or part of his team.

Of course, she looked just as surprised as he did. The sly look of guaranteed satisfaction melted away to surprise, then to condescending laughter, although Sands didn't think it was directed at him.

"¡Señor Tirado! ¡Tu es gringo!"

The fact that she called him by his alias was somewhat comforting, but not enough to place him at ease. But he'd play along for now. With the clothes she was wearing – or _not_ wearing – he could say with certainty that the only weapons she'd come in with were her boobs.

So he looked down at her words, once again noting the paleness of his skin, then looked back to the woman. How observant. Do you mind if I ask who you are and what the hell you're doing in my room?

Ah, señor… She pulled herself off the bed with a boneless grace, studied perfection meant to impress and seduce. Names aren't important like a girl like me, and I'm sure you can figure out what I'm here to do. Or _who_.

_Subtle._ Alright, he go along a little further. He still didn't have any answers, and she was easy enough on the eyes.

Who sent you? he asked idly as she came up to him and started running her fingers over his chest. Tess had done much the same the night before, but that had been . . . different. This was just a matter of fact and a matter of business.

My patron, she replied coyly. Her eyes met his from under her lashes, and somehow she contrived to blush. I've never been with a man so pale.

_And you're still not going to._ Aloud he murmured, "Z'at right?"

"¿Que?"

I'm not sure I believe you. Or trust your 'patrón.' But he raised his hands to play with her curling, bleach-blonde hair. Her breasts pressed importunately against his chest, but for him it was as passionless as hugging his mother.

Giovanni, you tease. One hand crept towards his neck while the other reached for the towel.

He grabbed it tightly before it could reach its destination. "Sorry, sugarbutt. I'm not that easy."

"Señor . . ." She may not understand his words, but she understood that he wasn't letting her do her job. How was she supposed to maneuver him into a compromising position if he made her keep her distance?

I'm not sampling, and I'm certainly not buying. Go tell your patron that I appreciate the gesture, but I'd rather have his name.

The girl's eyes widened as if in panic, and Sands didn't understand until he heard the footsteps in the hall. Good. He'd have one of his people . . . escort . . . the young lady out.

But the young woman in question had other plans. As the footsteps stopped outside his door, and the knob moved as if a hand had been laid on it, she jerked him down to meet her lips. In his surprise at her initiative, Sands' grip loosened on her wrist and the towel came off just as the door opened.

_Shit!_

* * *

**_Why are you going? You were just there and the only advice your "boss" gave you was to "hang in there and watch your back." As if don't already know that._**

_There is no "we." There's me, and there's the figment of my imagination, which would be you._

**_Fine. But the original question still stands: What the hell are we doing?_**

_I just need to talk to him, is that alright with you? I feel like I'm about to be set up._

**_Funny you should say that. What makes you think you're not being set up _now_? Carlos let you go too easily._**

_It wasn't followed. We both checked for that._

**_Maybe not physically, but what about electronically? Did you ever consider that?_**

_Don't be ridiculous. Not even the CIA is that paranoid._

**_I'm not so sure about that. When was the last time you went to the dentist?_**

_I – _

Señora? Can I help you?

Tess looked up to see she was still on the ground floor of the apartment building on Arenas street. Her finger was on the "hold" button, and probably had been for some time.

_Stop that,_ she commanded her other self. When her finger was removed, the doors slid shut, sparing her from having to say anything to the manager. She didn't like him. He was never clean.

The ride upstairs was blissfully short, and the hallway was mercifully empty. It was a little strange, true, but she could only imagine what the other agents were saying, and she wanted no awkward moments. She had enough of those while merely arguing with herself.

Moving with certainty, Tess walked up to Sands' door and opened it without knocking.

**_Breathe, you fucking psycho! Fucking _breathe**

Tess gasped, inhaling desperately. Shock had knocked her breath from her body, but as long as she'd remained inert, the picture refused to clarify. But air brought crystal clear images of the tableau before her.

Sands, naked, holding . . . kissing . . . a woman. Who wasn't her. Who was a streetwalker.

Breath.

Surprise from Sands. Perhaps even shock. But just embarrassment from his woman.

Oh dear, I thought you said she wouldn't be coming by for awhile.

The words broke Tess from her paralyzing horror. She bolted. There was a flurry of curses from the room, but she didn't stop. It hurt too much. Maybe she'd never stop.

"Tessa! Stop right now!"

_Yeah, right,_ she thought frantically, heading towards the stairs and trying to ignore the doors along the hall that were opening and the heads that were poking out to witness her humiliation. Taking the elevator would mean waiting too long, and loosing time was unacceptable. Especially when she could hear footsteps gaining on her.

"Teresa!"

_No!_ she silently screamed in response to the sharp command. _No, no, no, no, no, no!_ Her hand reached for the door to the stairwell . . .

. . . it was heavier than she remembered and hard to lever open . . .

. . . a hand appeared over her shoulder and slammed the door shut. She was pinned in. Trapped. Unable to run from the emotions. She had to get out. Had to escape. Had to get away.

"Let me go." Tess was surprised at how controlled her voice was. She could practically see Sands' frown of disbelief.

"Niña – "

"I need to go. She slammed her elbow back. Sands must have been expecting something like that, because he arched backwards to avoid hurt. Tess dodged too, and managed to put a good five feet between them.

"Damnit, chica. Listen to me." The look on his face was that of frustration. She locked her eyes to it because her eyes had the disturbing urge to wander down his bare torso to the waistband of his jeans. He'd put them on so fast that the top button was undone.

"That's alright," she said emotionlessly. "I should have called. Or at least knocked."

"I wasn't _doing_ anything!" he exploded. "That girl –"

"It doesn't matter." Tess did _not_ want to hear about the girl whom she could see approaching down the hallway.

"The _hell_ it doesn't." His voice was quickly going sardonic. "She obviously upset you."

_Bastard._ Shaking her hair back, Tess smoothly said, "I was embarrassed, not upset. We never claimed to have an exclusive –"

"That's bullshit," Sands calmly interrupted.

Tess ignored him, " – an exclusive relationship, Sands." _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts . . ._ "If you need more, that's entirely your business." She could hear the elevator coming as if her desperation had summoned it. "I have things to do. Busy few days coming up, right?"

What's wrong, lover? The blond had caught up with them. If Tess had had a gun, she would have killed the bitch.

**_Who needs a gun? Use your hands. She's a threat. Kill her. Just do it. Wrap your fingers around her neck and strangle her. She deserves it. Do it._**

Tess had taken a step forward before she realized it, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Sands must have read her intensions on her face, because he threw out an arm and pushed the blonde woman behind him. "Leave," he told the prostitute without taking his eyes from Tessa's face.

_He's protecting her . . ._ Tessa's eyes burned with tears, but she at least didn't spill them. The blonde on the other hand, let her fall freely.

But my love, its not my fault the _gazmoño_ doesn't know how to announce herself. Please don't make me leave.

The incriminating words were all Tess needed. He could feel her control snapping apart thread by delicate thread. "Fuck you, Sands."

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Tess was halfway inside before she realized that the car had a passenger. It was Carlos.

* * *

Tess laid on her bed, staring at the wall; her eyes burned but she couldn't work up the energy to cry any more. It was growing dark outside. Too many hours to bear had gone by since she'd left the apartment. Her heart and her head were heavy. She was lethargic from too many tears. The locket was long gone, left on Arenas street outside Sands' building. It they got worried someone might call, but she didn't know if she would answer. All she'd known was that she hadn't wanted him to hear her cry.

No matter what she'd said, it felt as if Sands had betrayed her. And not just with that . . .

**_Slut? Bitch? Whore?_**

_Whatever._ Whatever the proper label, it hurt. But not as much as his other betrayal. Tess didn't even want to think about it, but the entire scene replayed in her head.

She could feel the blood drain from her face, leaving her skin chalky. _Carlos! Here!_ Out of habit – it wasn't as if she could actually care anymore – she glanced at Sands. He'd half turned away, his hair was hanging down, shielding his face; the blonde was hanging off him, weeping. Sands did nothing to push her away, even though Tess was still right in front of him. The small part of her mind that was still thinking rationally screamed that Sands couldn't stand such emotional women and that he was using this one as a cover. But the knife in her heart twisted a little deeper and the pain whispered that this was the reason she wasn't enough. She was emotionally crippled and mentally disabled. Sands was fastidious. He'd want a whole woman who didn't need to lean on him for everything. Even in a relationship he needed his independence, and she simply needed him too much.

"Teresa?" Carlos pulled gently on her arm and spoke to her in a soft voice. "Are you alright?"

No. Not alright. Convicted, and conviction hurt like a bastard. She wasn't meant to be loved. Just manipulated. She'd been stupid to think otherwise. Better to stay away from love and men entirely.

_I wonder where the nearest convent is? They would take me in. I could take a vow of silence and go quietly mad. More mad. It wouldn't be that bad._

"Tessa?" How long had she been staring at Sands? As long as he'd been avoiding looking at her. A fly buzzed, her watched ticked, the blonde cried softly.

"Take me home," she begged her cousin weakly. In her mind she saw her living room, complete with children and clutter. To Carlos it was exactly what he wanted to hear. "Please . . . I'm done here. Get me out."

"Is there something wrong?" The raised eyebrow and the glance towards the unhappy couple made it clear what he suspected. If it had been just Sands, perhaps she would have said something in her anger and hurt. But there were agents listening from behind closed doors, and there was the woman, and there was Tessa's pride. Striking out would just let Sands win. And if this was the last time they were to see each other face to face, she had no desire to loose. That and the agents here were innocent of their bosses' transgression. She wouldn't be responsible for any reprisal against them.

"I . . . I was tending their child," she said in a faint voice. "They didn't have enough money for the hospital. He . . . his fever spiked and I couldn't get it down fast enough. He seizured. There was nothing I could do."

He looked skeptical, but he didn't question her. "Loosing a patient drains you, doesn't it?"

"Yes. . . I'd like to leave."

"Alright, wait for me downstairs. I'll follow." Tess hesitated, not exactly trusting him, but if she didn't leave, he'd suspect that there was more to this than she was telling him.

After she'd left, Carlos offered his condolences to the grieving "parents." He knew of course, that the woman was a plant, and he admired the job she was doing, but the man . . . . He didn't trust a man who wouldn't raise his eyes, especially one who had to know he'd just been set up. Handing over a business card – the business was a front of course, and Carlos had to do his part to make this seem as if he hadn't planned it – he told Sands to call him if he and his "wife" needed any assistance. Then he held out his hand to shake.

Sands shook it, and while he kept his face down, his body turned so that his features were more visible. Carlos felt a tug at his memory, but he couldn't immediately say why the man in front of him looked so familiar. "Buenos tardes, señor. Señora."

"Gracias, señor Velasquez," the blonde gushed, kissing his hand. "Dios te bendiga."

"Y tú." Carlos left the floor, leaving the false couple behind him, and taking a great sense of satisfaction with him.

_I'm always going to be alone, aren't I?_ she asked the voice.

**_Yes._**

_It wouldn't help if I got rid of you, would it?_

**_You can't . . . but no. It wouldn't._**

_I could quiet you forever. It wouldn't take much. Just the contents of a few pill bottles and a bottle of red wine._

****Silence.

_I could. You'd like that._ The children would be well provided and cared for. No one else would notice or care beyond what she could have done for them.

**_Perhaps. But you'd need to make a decision, and then you would need to move._**

"Oh . . . right." _That's too much work. Maybe tomorrow._

There was a knock on the door. Someone was coming to see her again. Maybe with food, maybe to see how she was or to ask what was wrong. Whatever they were here for, she'd turn them away just as she'd sent the other away. Company was the last thing she wanted right now.

But the door opened before she could tell her visitor to leave. The scent of cologne and cigar smoke was distinct – it was Carlos.

He looked down at the unmoving lump that was his woman and sighed. No one could be more delighted that his plan had worked – he'd seen Tessa's eyes and knew that'd be no reconciliation with her lover – but he did wish that it'd been a little easier on Tess. It was a pity that she was so miserable.

Not saying a thing, he came in and sat on the bed. For five minutes they sat there in silence.

"He was more than a patient, wasn't he, Teresa?" She didn't answer. "A lover? You wouldn't be the first to make a poor choice in that department. You didn't need to protect him or lie to save face."

"I don't want to talk about it," Tess mumbled, feeling her emotions stirring at his words. "Just leave me alone." He ignored her request.

"It hurts for me to see you in such pain, Teresa."

_Leave and you wouldn't have to._ His pain couldn't rival his in a thousand years. She wished he'd fuck off and leave her alone to die.

"Not all men are like that. _I'm_ not like that."

_Liar._ "Stop it, Carlos."

"Look at me, Teresa. I like to see who I'm speaking to."

_I don't want to talk to you._ She didn't have a choice though, because Carlos reached out and turned her by force.

"I need you, Tessa, and not as my cousin. There's no blood shared between us. We'd make a handsome paring and a superb ruling couple. I don't want a wife like Uncle chose, or a woman like Neva. You're the perfect balance between the two."

She said nothing. Her voice offered no advice. The choice to stay or not was solely hers, and she was reluctant to make one. But one thought did occur and leave her mouth in quick succession. "I don't love you."

"A marriage doesn't need love. Just an understanding. We have that."

"Surely you expect heirs," she murmured, not knowing why she persuaded this, but not caring either.

"That may not be as difficult as you might think." His voice was low, and she supposed it was meant to be seductive, but she didn't care about this any more than she cared about anything else.

"How many others have there been?" he asked softly, leaning over her. "Including Tómas."

_Tómas_ For the first time in a long while, Tess remembered that she was a widow. How young she'd been then. Young and scared. Now she was only scared.

"Teresa?" His fingers were running through a lock of her hair. Tess didn't like the feeling. It was different when Lena did it. Or René. Or Sands . . .

_Sands._ "Two. Tómas and . . . him."

"He looked familiar. Why was that, do you think?"

"I don't know." _Oh god! What reports did he see from that day? What reports are still around?_ The cartel operation that had cost Sands his eyes had to have been recorded. There had to be a file around somewhere. She'd have to search. It could mean her life.

"Teresa, I want to kiss you. I've wanted to for months. Will you let me?"

**_How easily advantage is taken and incest is committed. This should be interesting._**

Tess herself was too shocked to respond. How could he ask that after suspecting her heart had been broken? This was not a simple case of getting back on the horse.

_He's just like all the rest. I knew it. I really did. What do I do?!_ There was no reply, just a feeling of being watched._ I know you're there, shithead! Answer me!_

Carlos must have taken her silence for acceptance, because suddenly his face filled her vision. She froze, not want this at all! But he didn't notice. Why would he? After all, Tess was no more important to him than an expensive statue he wanted, and twice as troublesome.

He got closer. The scent of tobacco became overwhelming. She closed her eyes and held her breath. _Please no, please no, please no, please no._

Someone knocked on the door. Carlos' breath gusted across her cheek. "Ahh, querida. Be well."

The bed moved, but Tess didn't open her eyes until she head the door shut and perfect silence filled the room.

It was several more hours, and full dark, before she relaxed.

* * *

Sands felt like shit. He'd actually had to pay the blond slut to leave without assaulting his virtue. By then, it was much too late to do anything about Tessa except to plan a premature retreat to Cuidad. It was far enough out of the way of any fighting that his people should be safe there.

He was now sure that he'd been set up, and he was just as sure that he was the _only_ target if that tidy sting operation. Velasquez was the missing piece and the one that had allowed Sands to figure out he'd been had. The man had gotten jealous, so he'd taken out the competition. He had no clue about the CIA camp on his doorstep.

Even though he'd helped out Sands, Carlos' arrival on the fifth floor had put practically the entire mission at risk. The possibility and preparation for a cartel hit had to be planned for before relationships could enter the picture. But that also meant that Tess needed to be pulled out _now._

Before that could be done though, Sands needed to call in and talk to Colton - the director was technically in charge of the mission – and then the agents in Zacatecas and Mexico City, and then _his_ team. And after all that was done, they needed to pack everything up and relocate. Barnaby estimated that they could be free and clear of Arenas street within the next twenty-four hours. They had more equipment than would fit in the few vans they'd kept, so they either needed to move things in shifts or rent vehicles. Even knowing this, Sands demanded they be gone in twelve hours, or he'd have someone's head. At least he hand another man to help her pack and relocate since Tess was so fucking stubborn and overly dramatic. She'd thrown away the locket – which was for her safety as much as it was for intelligence – making wiretap detail a moot point.

It wasn't until a quarter to one that morning – hours after he'd given serious thought to simply burning the building down, computers and all – that Sands was free to call Tess, and even then he had to keep it short because he had to check in with Strauss in another fifteen minutes.

He listened to the phone ring. _It'd do Strauss a world of good to wait. The man is much too close to being a bureaucrat. His heart will never make it past fifty if he doesn't relax._

He listened to the phone ring._ I need to cut my nails._

He listened to the phone ring. _Where's a newspaper when you need one?_

The phone rang enough times that Sands got shunted into Tessa's as yet unconfigured voicemail box. "Damnit," he muttered under his breath as he hung up and hit redial. Maybe she'd already been found out, or locked away for her audacity, or ­–

_Or drugged up._ That explanation was the likeliest. _What the hell__ is wrong with me? I need to get a grip. No use worrying over a mulish sheila. There's more where she came from._ Of course, it was that fact that'd gotten him in so much trouble. Too many women.

Sands rolled his eyes as Tess _again_ neglected to answer her phone.

Again he called her, this time checking his watch. If she didn't pick up this time, he was just going to go over there and get her. Who gave a damn what she wanted? She'd be taken to safety whether she liked it or not. And then he'd –

"What?"

The flat, sullen voice on the other end of the line didn't give him much hope that she could be reasoned with, but he tried anyway. "Niña –"

"My name is Teresa," she interrupted. "Not niña, not chiquita, not chica, or any of your other nicknames. I'd prefer it if we remained professional until the end of our association."

That pissed Sands off. Professional. Right. "It sounds to me like someone has a stick shoved up their ass," he drawled.

"Agent –"

"I heard you the first time, _Doctor_. However, I think that 'professionalism' can go straight to hell."

"You would," she muttered.

Sands ignored her. "After all, its hard to be politely distant when I can remember the way your breast felt in my –"

"Sands!" He could practically see the frown and the foot-stomp that went with her exclamation. "What did you want?"

"To talk to you." Now that he had her on the line, he wanted to piss her off for all she'd put him through.

"I'm hanging up. Don't call again."

"Why not?"

"You know why." To his surprise, she did hang up.

Irritated, he called her back. Again they played the game where she pretended to be out, but by his fourth try she must have been annoyed enough to answer again. "You've got thirty seconds."

"We're pulling out. Meet us at the Laundromat on 42nd street in Cuidad."

"Are you crazy?" she hissed. "They'll notice I'm gone."

"But you won't be going back. You'll be safe until we can ship you back to the states."

"I can't leave," she said too patiently. "There's two guards outside my door. Besides, I don't trust you."

That hurt more than it should have. But he would play along. Again. "You need me."

"You took care of that, didn't you?" she snapped.

"I didn't –"

"I don't want to talk about it!" There was a loud crash, and then static.

_She broke the phone. The stubborn cat broke the damn phone!_ "Weyhauser!" The agent came running. "Put some rope and duct tape in the black car."

"What for? If you're not going to break my face for asking."

"I'm going after our civilian, smart ass. Now get." Without watching to make sure his orders were followed, Sands slammed his door and changed into some dark clothes. He didn't want to be see, not even by Tess, until it was too late for her to resist.

* * *

**Quotes: **Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Secret Window

**Author's Thanks:** thanks firstly to **velly** (I am updating twice in the same month, and that's very close together for me. I hope the tension got kicked up another notch or ten here. You'll have to tell me what you think.); **Dreamgirl21147** (Wow, you were really involved with reading the last chapter. I hope that this one was just as enthralling, if not more.); **normal** **human** **being** (You're going to have more issues before the story is done. You're going to have lots and lots of them. And they're just starting. evil grin And I am very glad you can't get anywhere near me with that crowbar. shudders); **LadySparrowJack** (Were the pins and needles worth it? I certainly hope so, because I'm loving this chapter! And the next! And all of them! I thank you for your compliments, I certainly hope I live up to them, and I more than hope to hear from you again. Oh, and I'm also happy you're loving Fractured Secrets. At the moment that's kinda my toddler. This is my adolescent. I've got a baby coming. I'm just very happy. ); **Raven** (Yes, the DVD is always a good thing. Personally, I thought there were a few more DVD Sands moments in this chapter than there have been in a long time. Carlos…he's starting to creep me out. I actually kinda like Neva. She's very straight forward. She rarely surprises me, and that's always nice. Tess…I've got plans for her. You're certainly right about how her current position is killing her, and you've got some points about her family, but there's no way she'd ever give them up. What she needs is a helper. Now if I can only make these two sit down and hash things out.); **Merrie** (yes, lets blame Halia. She'll never know. devilish look Sorry for the lack of smut. I suppose we'll have to write some elsewhere.); **Shannon** (I like ending things on a cliffhanger, that's how I could end it like that. As for what you're going to do with your life when this is done? Read my next stories? I've got one and a half planned. the one is a From Hell fic, and the half is a PotC I didn't even notice that there was a lack of Sands in the last chapter. Man. I need to start paying attention. I certainly hope there was enough Sands in this one. There's going to be a lot of POV changes next chapter, but after that I think we'll have Tess and SJ side by side again, if not really speaking to each other.); **Isola** (I'm very glad to hear from you. You're one of my oldest reviewers now. The others have abandoned me! sobs Oh well, I've lots of lovely other ones to make it up. I certainly hope I can write a conclusion that satisfies everyone for the time being. I might have to write another somewhere down the road.)


	17. Pain

**Author's Note: **This is not my fault. I did not mean for the chapter to get this stinkin' long. But there was so much I had to pack into it, and so little that I could cut because it wasn't important or two well-crafted to be sent to digital oblivion. So, I hope everyone enjoys the angsty goodness, and writes me a really long review in reply. At this time, I am accepting angry rants, so please send. ; )

* * *

Tess couldn't go back to sleep after Sands' call. True, she'd gotten a bit of vindictive pleasure from smashing the cell phone, but it faded quickly and left her feeling bitter. SO what if he thought she was in danger? He hadn't cared months ago, and he obviously hadn't considered she was in danger if she'd gone so far as to connect herself to him.

_I'll search for that file and destroy it if I have to. If it's not around, then he isn't in danger of being discovered, and if he's not in danger, then I'm not either. So I'll just make it disappear._

_**Won't that look suspicious?**_

She thought about that for a moment, then shook her head. _It's a closed case as far as anyone here is concerned, and one over a year old at that. Neither Carlos or __Neva__ ever **saw** him, so I'll only burn the file if it has a picture in it._

**_I still say you're being an idiot._**

****_But you're not going to stop me?_

_**Knock yourself out.**_

Carefully and quietly, she changed into darker clothes and went downstairs.

* * *

Carlos looked over all the information Neva had been able to gather. "So for the past year, Teresa has been living in New York state with four children, and teaching at a community college?"

"A job from which she went on sabbatical in January, before boarding a plane for San Antonio. Where we found her," Neva said dryly. "Doesn't that sound just a bit suspicious?"

"Yes," Carlos admitted. This was not looking good for Tessa.

"There's more. One of our men back at the main compound found a family that confirmed that a woman matching Tessa's description stayed in a house near the governor's mansion. And she had a stranger with her. A gringo wearing sunglasses and who had copious amounts of blood on his face. They paid it no mind, thinking it was simply a costume for the holiday, but they also said that he moved like a pistolero, so it's possible that Tessa's guest was more than a simply reveler that had gotten a little to carried away."

"A gun man? With blood on his face?"

"Mmm-hmm. Shortly after, she went to the US, and visited a friend who was experimenting with ocular transplantation. Word is that his first patient was a US citizen, rescued from Mexico."

"What was the name of that street?" Carlos asked, suddenly animated. "The one with the apartment."

"Arenas."

"Arenas . . . Sands."

Neva looked at him incredulously. "You think he lived? After what Guevara did to him?" Everyone in the cartel's upper echelon had gotten the intelligence reports on the CIA agent who was trying to mess in their business, even those who wouldn't be in the fighting. When Carlos looked at her and left the room, she fell into step beside him.

"That's what I intend to ask her," he said grimly as they headed to Tessa's room.

"Wait. Just as much as I'd love to quiz Teresa, let's find his file first."

"File?" Carlos paused.

"You know Uncle always kept very good records. There's got to be one on our agent Sands, along with a surveillance photo or two. The file is probably in my office."

The siblings changed directions. Reaching Neva's office, they opened the door to find a light on and a shadowy figure in the corner.

Puzzled as to who would be brave enough to burgle his house and filled with a sense of foreboding, Carlos reached over and turned the overhead light on. To his not so great surprise and extreme disappointment, it was indeed Tess who twirled around, hands flying behind her back to hide whatever papers she'd taken.

"Neva, please wait outside while I speak to Teresa." The request was obeyed without protest, and the door shut, leaving the man and woman to watch each other over the desk.

"What's wrong, Teresa?" She stared at him with a doe-in-the-headlights expression on her face. Needless to say, she didn't answer. "I suppose you were just looking for a little light reading." As he moved around the desk to reach her, Tessa started to move away. "Stay where you are!" he snapped, frowning at her.

Tess didn't know what to think or do. A very incriminating folder was in her hands, and she didn't have a way out of the room or a handy lie.

Carlos stopped in front of her. "Give me the papers, Teresa." She hesitated, and his frown grew deeper. "You're already in trouble. Don't make me increase your punishment." Still Tess didn't move. "You'll never make it out of here with it."

"You-you could t-turn your back," she stammered. "I'll put it back."

Her backhanded her across the right cheekbone. The folder dropped at her feet as she stumbled backwards, but Carlos made no move to pick it up. "Give me the folder, Teresa."

He was trying to break her. She knew that. She knew he wouldn't stop until she obeyed Foolishly, she shook her head.

The next blow was a fist to her temple. Tess gasped and dropped as her vision went black and her ears rang, but still her defiance burned. "I won't." The two words were filled with pain, but not enough to satisfy Carlos.

He grabbed her arms in a vice-like grip and hauled her to her feet. In anger, he slapped her harshly across the face three times, a large ring drawing blood twice; once on her cheek, once on her lip. When he let go, she dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"Are you going to cooperate now?"

Tess stubbornly shook her head. This time Carlos picked up the folder himself, and while Tess was dazed, she realized what that meant. . . She was going to be very, very sore, very soon.

**_Or dead._**

Carlos read the label aloud for her benefit.

"Sands, Sheldon J.

CIA

Threat Level: 2"

Tess waited for the gunshot, but it never came. Glancing up, she saw Carlos was leafing through the pages. He was looking for something, she realized with a chill. As she watched, he found the photos and confirmed that Tessa's former lover was the supposedly dead agent.

Setting the folder down on the desk, Carlos went to the office door. Neva was waiting there expectantly. 'It's him. He must not have learned his lesson last time, because his only reason to be here would be to interfere with our plans. Go back to the apartment complex, kill whoever is with him, but bring him back. I want him alive."

"And Tess?"

"She'll be moving downstairs. I'll deal with her in the morning."

* * *

Tess was not in her room.

_She's making this harder than it needs to be. The brat._

Prowling softly with one hand hovering over the gun at his hip, Sands searched for his recalcitrant civilian. He'd taken a stupidly large risk in coming here, and he ought to leave. _In fact, I'm going to if she doesn't let herself be found in the next five minutes. Better one neck risked than two._ Still, it disturbed him that he was here in the first place. It was totally out of character.

_Perhaps I should just hope that this makes me unpredictable,_ he grumbled to himself as he searched for some sign of where she'd disappeared to. There wasn't much to go on other than an open book on her bed, and a slip of paper next to that. _I wonder what she's been reading . . ._ Curiosity, as usual, got the better of him, and he picked up the book.

_You are jealous, maiden,/you are jealous of one who is/lucky, because you seek him,/blind, because he does not see you,/ungrateful, because he angers you/and presumptuous, because/he does not excuse himself today/for what he did yesterday._

Sands rolled his eyes. _She's complaining._ He wasn't sure how to feel about that, so he turned his attention to the opposite page.

_To turn your face and from clear proofs of deceit,/to drink poison and if it were a __soothing liquor,/to disregard gain and delight in being injured._

_To believe that heaven can lie in hell;/to devote your life and soul to being disillusioned;/this is love; whoever has tasted it, knows._

That was one that Sands decided would be better pondered far away from here, and hopefully with a beer. Or a lot of beers. Was Tess just reading and mocking these people with the bitterness he'd heard? Or did this have a deeper significance?

_Never mind, I don't want to know. I really don't._ Instead, he picked up the slip of paper acting as a bookmark. It had writing on both sides, and he had to squint to read it in the dim light.

There was nothing on the first side, so turned the paper over. _The enemy is anybody who's going to get you killed, no matter which side he's on. _

Just then, he heard footsteps moving down the corridor outside Tessa's room. They sounded much to heavy to be Tessa's. _It's almost four in the morning! What the hell is someone doing wandering around?_ The footsteps decided him, however. It was entirely possible that Tess would still make the rendezvous on her own, and in the meantime, he was pointlessly risking life and limb.

Swiftly he moved to the French doors at the back of the room, and climbed out on the balcony railing, keeping as low as he could. There were three guards on the patio below him, discussing something under their breath. Sands cursed them as his biceps cramped painfully from his awkward position. _Move!_ If they hadn't had rifles slung over their shoulders, he might have risked the slight rustle his landing would have made. But they _were_ there, and they _did_ have guns, so he stayed put.

It was a good ten minutes, and Sands had sweated through his undershirt, before the conference ended. _I hope they put an end to world hunger or something, _he snarked, his eyes raking for any other movement that might indicate that another guard might be coming around on patrol. There was nothing. With a sigh of relief, Sands let go of the railing and dropped the few feet to the ground.

After landing, he stayed put for a few seconds as his body took the time to remind him that he was closer to forty than thirty, and that he was getting on in years for a field agent. He ignored the message and wiped his hands on his jeans before walking through the barrow passage that existed between a line of tall, flowering shrubs and the wall. His car was parked two miles from the hacienda – one mile from the first security checkpoint. Calculating things in his head, Sands decided he could start jogging slowly once he was off the grounds. It irritated him that he had to go so slow when before he could have simply run, but his eyes just weren't what they used to be, and even contacts couldn't correct his vision that much in the dead of night in the middle of nowhere.

That bit of sarcasm got him to a section of the main gate that had a small grove of trees grown right up to it. With the help of a few well-placed braches, Sands scaled the wall and dropped to the ground on the other side.

An owl hooted somewhere, enforcing the fact that he was crouched in a patch of shrub and skinny trees that could barely be considered adequate cover, and he immediately kicked himself into a steady jog while his thoughts turned to watching for holes and braches that might trip him up.

A half an hour later, Sands was cautiously approaching the small gully where he'd left his car. All was silent and dark, but that was no reason to recklessly go charging in. The only cover was some thick, prickly bushes that made him want to sneeze, but he made the most of it anyway. If the car had been found. . .

Crawling on his belly, he worked his way over to a medium-sized boulder. He moved into a crouch to wait.

Ten minutes passed . . . the euphoria of field work was starting to wear off.

Thirty . . . Tess had been so very shocked. He wondered how much persuasion it'd take just to get her to talk to him again.

Forty-five . . . _Forget this. I'm going in._ As he rose though, his prospective changed and he saw the faint glow of a pen light in the driver's seat.

_Shit._ It was very doubtful that Tess was holding that light. But it was possible. Improbable, but possible._ Fuck. Which is it?_ His legs complained about the half-crouch, and his fingers brushed against the butt of his gun. _Fuck._

Deciding he didn't really have a choice, Sands scuttled over to the truck, took a breath, realized no one was shooting at him, then ran while half bent over to kneel just underneath the driver's window.

_One. Two. Thr– He_ ripped the door open, gun drawn and aimed. It must have looked pretty dramatic, but unfortunately, there was no one in the car to be impressed. There was just a solitary penlight resting on the dashboard.

It was a trap.

_Fuck!_ Sands stood to leave the scene with all due haste, saw a moving reflection in the car window, spun . . . and grimaced as something hard impacted against the side of his head and everything went dark.

* * *

Neva looked down at the fallen agent, somewhat disappointed. True, he'd gone for so long without notice . . . but that had been anticlimactic. Just too damn easy.

_Disgraceful._

With a nod to the three men she had with her, she snapped, "Tráigalo."

_Bring him._

* * *

Harsh overhead lights turned on suddenly, causing Tess to instinctively recoil, but that was the extent of her reaction. The light had flashed once too often for her to take it as a serious indication that someone was actually coming in. And if someone was coming in to visit her, she didn't give a damn.

**_Wake up. You probably have a concussion._**

"I-I don't remember . . . remember hitting my. . . ."

**_Head?_**

Tess head the unhappy and unwilling concern in the voice's . . . voice. For a moment she laughed hysterically at that thought.

**_Stop it, Teresa Adame! Get a hold of yourself or we're both going to die!_**

"How bad would that be? Honestly? No one to disturb or hurt us – Oww!" She looked down at her arm where she was sporting a new welt.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god! Don't do that. Please._ The fact that her body was acting without her permission was the scariest thing she'd ever experienced.

**_Well, if you'd get off your sorry ass and do something, I wouldn't have to._**

_How long have we been here?_ Tess asked as she struggled to her feet. She had to use the wall to help her up because her legs had the dismaying tendency to fold under her.

**_Less than twenty hours and more than eight. I think._**

Blood rushed from her head and then back once she was fully upright. Pain exploded just to the side of her head, and she automatically reached for it. The moment her fingertips touched the lump, she cried out and pressed her forehead to the wall; the pain did clear some. She realized the wall was cold, that she had a headache, that the cut on her lip burned. . . .

When the pain receded, she risked a glance around the small room. It was all cement, about 12x12 feet square, and lit by a single light bulb.

_I . . . I think I remember being thrown in here. And hitting my head.****_

**_Well, congratulations, Einstein. Now get us out of here._**

_How?_ There were no windows, the walls – if they were anything like the cells in Culíacan – were at least two feet thick and enforced with steel rods, and the door was six inches of steel. The room was meant to hold hostages, spies, and traitors that were going to be tortured.

_Oh god, please no. I won't be able to take it. I'll have an episode. I'll be defenseless._

**_Then don't resist. They already know about the asshole, thanks to you, so they probably know he's sneaking around again._**__

_And what's your point?_ Tess thought in a state of near hysteria. She'd unconsciously sunk down until her forehead rested against her knees, and her knees were hugged to her chest.

**_Tell. They know. They asshole probably has all sorts of plans for getting away if you were caught. He'd probably expect you to tell, especially since you caught him with the bimbo. So save yourself needless pain._**

The lights turned off, but Tess didn't notice. Cold air rushed through a vent high in a corner, and she didn't notice. All she did was sit and think, and argue with her ever stronger voice.

* * *

She must have dozed off at some point, because she could faintly remember thinking about that last time she'd seen Carlos as a child, and the next, there was a sharp pain in her ankle. Crying out, she tried to escape and discovered several things: the lights were on and they burned her light-sensitive eyes, she couldn't thrash well because her arms were pinned behind her, and someone was using that to hold her off the floor in a half-kneeling position. But the terrible fear of being trapped by an unknown overrode the pain, so she didn't stop; she just poured more strength into her struggles.

Hands – those were hands on her wrists! – tightened controllingly. "Stop it, Tessa. This is becoming tiresome."

_Sands!_ She tried even harder to get free. _Why is he here? Why is he hurting me?_

"I don't understand," she nearly sobbed in her pain, fright, and confusion. "Why are you doing this?"

"Just relax, niña, and it'll be over soon. I promise. All your troubles will be over."

"Her hands were going numb. It hurt. She all hurt, all over. "Please, you're hurting me," she begged, at the same time watching herself say the same thing to him in the past. He was lying on a bed, sightless and naked to the waist, threatening to break her wrist if she didn't answer his questions. "You're hurting me."

"Just stop struggling. I promise that death doesn't hurt. I'm sure you have a poem for that. Tell it to me so I can remember." She sobbed, and he shook her, making her shoulder scream. "I don't hear you talking, querida."

"And there are corpses," she gasped. "There are corpses,/feet made of cold and sticky clay,/death is inside the bones,/like a barking where there are no dogs,/coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere,/growing in the damp air like tears of rain." Then as she realized what she'd said, Tess panicked and threw herself forward . . .

-_SNAP!-_

. . . and screamed as she felt a bone in her ankle break. All the fight went out of her in that moment, and she collapsed. Her body pulled painfully at her the sockets of her arms, but it was nothing when compared to the icy-hot needles shooting into her ankles.

"It hurts . . . make it go away," Tess begged her other side, forgetting she wasn't alone. But she cared only for relief.

Merciful blackness came down and Tess passed out.

* * *

Sands woke up with a very large headache in a room not so far from Tessa's. Not that he knew anything beyond the fact that he was in a concrete room, and could guess anything beyond the likely conclusion that he was the guest of Velasquez. It was also a good guess that Tess – since he hadn't found her – was probably dead or dying, although it was possible that in light of his supposed treachery, that she was taking comfort from her cousin's arms. He didn't think there would be anything sexual to it – Tess had her own reasons and mental prompts for doing things – but he wouldn't presume to know. And if the thought of her gazing trustingly up from beneath another man made him feel . . . _uneasy_ . . . then that was just his reaction to once again being knocked unconscious and then waking up in an enemy stronghold.

"At least I've got a better view," he muttered, turning in a 360º to survey each grey wall. If he wasn't dead already, then it would probably be torture and a belated death. His even being in Mexico could be considered a vendetta – which it was – and the fact that he had a working pair of eyes was a challenge. And it was unlikely that the threat of marines up the wazoo was going to work any better this time than it had a year ago.

He winced at that cheery thought, and habitually checked his pockets for a cigarette and his lighter. To his surprise, both were there. Lighting up, he started to restlessly pace the confines of the small room, growing uncharacteristically philosophical as he did so.

He'd heard profs at Langley that swore that if you were tortured once – and lived to tell about it – then there was nothing to fear if it happened again. Sands knew that was a load of bullshit. Let those ex-marine bastards teach whatever they wanted – it was all government propaganda to sucker in wannabe's anyway. After all, the chance of a good spook being caught once, much less _twice_, was negligible. He had not idea what that said about him, since he was everything the big bosses liked to see: selfish, self-serving, a little off balance, and a damn good agent besides. What he did know was if they started up with thumbscrews and boiling oil, he'd eventually break down. Even worse, he remembered the pain of having his eyes ripped out. It wasn't the sort of thing one tended to forget. If he had to go through that again, he'd go insane and end up scrambling his own brains if someone didn't do it for him first.

Dropping the butt of his first cigarette, he reached for another – luckily the pack had been nearly full – and lit up. _Escape?_ No, that was more than highly unlikely. Velasquez had learned from too many of Barillo's mistakes to get sloppy now. Rescue – unless it came from the "professional" Tess – was out of the question. He hoped to god his team wasn't so stupid as to try to come get him. Could they sneak? Sure. Lurk? Hell yes. Eavesdrop? Whenever there was a chance. But they were spooks, not the Rough Riders charging up San Pedro hill, or whatever the hell it'd been.

_See what sentimentality and responsibility get you?_ he silently grumbled. _A hand-chosen nightmare from Lady-fucking-Luck herself. Damnit._ He ran his hand through his hair. _See what **women** bring you to?_

Of course, that thought made him think of what Tess would say if he'd heard that particular rant. _I think I'll write on my tombstone, "Here lies Edmund Blackadder, and he's bloody annoyed."_ His lips quirked. _Fine, so she's not just a pain in the ass, and I'm just a fucking fool._

His second cigarette burned down to the stub, and he stifled the urge to reach for another. It might be days before anyone deigned to see him. No point in breezing through these.

The pacing however, didn't stop.

* * *

She was sitting up. The chair was uncomfortable; it was hard and the topmost rung dug into her lower back. It didn't help that she was slumped awkwardly over the table either.

**_Get up. Something isn't right here._**

"I'm not laying down," she mumbled. Was it cold in here, or just her?

**_That would be shock, and stop talking out loud. You don't know what's going on. Pick up your head and use your eyes._**

Groaning, Tess lifted her head. On top of aching, her neck and shoulders were now stiff, not to mention that he hair was in her face, blocking her sight.

**_They know you're awake. You have to know what's going on! Hurry!_**

It took more effort than it should have, but she finally managed to get her arm to raise. Slowly, slowly, she reached to brush her hair out of her face. . . .

. . . her arm stopped shot just inches off the table. Tess could feel a wide band around her wrist, keeping her from it moving much at all.

"No. Please, no," she whispered, nightmarish flashes of memory replaying in her head. Restraints, doctors, needles, loneliness – so lonely – and fear. Out of control. Defenseless. Insane. Heart-pounding, ears-ringing, lungs-heaving . . . reality.

**_Calm down._** Over the paralyzing terror, Tess felt the memories being pushed back and down into what she called the "seamy underbelly" of her mind. It was where the voices of her anger, terror, and her stark madness lived. As the memories faded, the weight on her chest eased up. Able to once again breathe, her panic died down and she was able to try to toss her hair back. The tangled mass only shifted enough for her to see the door open.

_Sands!_ Tess tensed as memory made her ankle start throbbing again. It'd settled into a dull throb, but now it was enough to make her grind her teeth – if she hadn't been doing so to keep her mouth shut.

"Well . . . it's good to see that you're awake, chica. I was afraid that you were in shock." Hands came towards her face and she jerked away. She'd been hurt too many times to unthinkingly submit. He might start gentle – they all did – but then it would hurt.

"Sit still." It was an order, not a request, but Tess still had to force herself to obey. Trembling, she held herself still as he once against reached towards her face.

She had to admit that he _was_ gentle, but that didn't mean she was prepared to let her guard down. That was what had led to this in the first place. Sands had gotten too close, and now he was hurting her. It only she knew what she'd done to deserve it.

"Why?" she croaked, focusing her eyes on the far wall. Some small bit of defiance that had never been beaten out of her refused to give him the satisfaction of eye contact. Not when that sight was a gift _she'd_ made possible. "Why are you –"

"Showing a traitor mercy?" A body moved across her field of vision, and she turned her head. Her neck twinged.

"You call this mercy?" she asked with more than a little bitterness. "My father showed me more mercy, and he couldn't have cared less if I had died."

"And just what did that earn him?" that silky voice asked back. "Years of aggravation, a rebellious daughter who worked against him. His way obviously didn't work, prima."

_Prima?_

"And since the usual sentence for betrayal is death –"

_Not Sands?_

" – I suppose I'm being very kind indeed."

_Carlos?_ Tess hated how relived she felt, but there was nothing she could do to squash it. "Why . . . why haven't . . . ?" Her throat was too dry to continue.

"Why are you still alive?" The table moved slightly as he sat down on the edge. "You can't fight me anymore, querida. After your involvement with that CIA agent – the one responsible for the death of your familia! – I see just how strong-willed you have become. Perhaps Uncle ignored the warning signs, if he had paid more attention to you. . . . But his inattention encouraged you, didn't it? No matter. I will not have it." He grabbed her chin none-to-gently and forced her to look at him. "Do you hear me? You shame you name and mine by consorting with the enemy. You degraded yourself by sharing his bed and spreading your legs for him. You have endangered a very important business deal, and put yourself at risk. My future wife will not embarrass me in this manner."

_Wife?_ "Wh-what did you say?" she stuttered, trying to pull away from his touch. In return, his fingers tightened, bruising in their intensity as she set her will against his. There were too many aches and pains taking their toll on her endurance for her to continue the small defiance for long, though. The moment she once again relaxed, his fingers once again became gentle as he rewarded her with a soft stroke for her abused cheek. It made her skin crawl.

"It's me or the firing squad, querida. But whatever you choose, this defiance of yours will stop.

There really wasn't much she could say to that, except the first thought that came to mind. "Cogida apagado."

He didn't slap her a she'd been expecting. Instead, he looked over her shoulder.

**_Not good!_ **The internal scream was deafening, Tess tensed just as the man that'd been in the corner stepped forward and brought a whip-like cane down across her shoulder blades.

Tess screamed as the line of impact first went numb, then fiery. She glared up at Carlos, the dangerous side of her temper showing through. With her rational self shunted to the side, she pursed her lips and spat in his direction. The glop of spit landed on his cheek more by accident than design, but she got a savage delight out of it all the same.

Carlos nodded, wiped his cheek with a handkerchief, and stood. "Until she asks to speak to me," he said to the man, "she's yours for five minutes every hour. Starting now."

* * *

According to Sands' watch, he'd been awake and pacing for three hours, when he heard someone messing with the latch to the door. He stopped his restless pacing as the tingling energy he associated with confrontation and matching wits filled his veins. It wasn't healthy, but he still enjoyed the adrenaline rush. It led him to do things like intentionally insulting a mean Mexican twice his size, dredging a Mariachi's worst memories, or stubbornly staying alive just to piss off people who'd already beaten him. It was stupid and damn hazardous, but he figured it was pointless to give it up now.

Velasquez entered the room just as Sands had taken up a nonchalant pose against the far wall. For the first time, both kings in this chess game can face to face, and neither was willing to give an inch. Sands had to fight to keep from glaring at Tessa's cousin. In this game, feelings were a weakness. So he watched as the armed man who tried to enter behind Velasquez was denied entrance by the drug lord. It made sense. In this initial meeting, there would be no violence. Just words. They'd bait each other, test for strengths, sore spots, and potential weaknesses.

Sands was more than familiar with the way the game was played. He'd been playing it for so long that sometimes it felt like he'd invented it. Certainly he'd been playing long enough that it was Velasquez's move first.

_Com'on, you bastard. I'm ready._

Carlos, however, was a patient enough man to wait a but longer. It was his favorite opening gambit. When the enemy expected a direct and immediate attack, nothing was more frustrating and uncertain that silence. After spending several long hours pouring over the file Tess had betrayed herself with, he was fairly certain that he'd never know if the agent reacted the way most men did, but it was worth the feeling of control it gave him even if it didn't. Let this interloping gringo stew a little bit longer in his damned curiosity. Let him wait a little bit longer to discover whether or not he'd live through the meeting. Let him wonder a little longer what had happened to Teresa.

This room – much like the one Tess was in – had a table and a pair of chairs. Carlos moved over to the table and set down the few things he'd brought in with him; the folder of intelligence on the agent, a few bugs Neva had found after a sweep of Tessa's room, a pill bottle that hadn't been on his cousin's meticulous list of inventory, and a scrap of paper that had crayon scribbles on it.

After carefully setting each item in a row, Carlos took a seat and gestured towards the one across from him. "Siéntele."

Sands pulled out a cigarette and his lighter in response, blowing a small cloud of smoke in Carlos' direction, declining the invitation for a seat.

"You're very relaxed for a wanted man, señor Sands. Especially when you are _my_ guest, and not vice versa."

He shrugged, took a drag on his cigarette, and murmured off-handedly, "Que sera, sera."

"Strange words coming from you, I think. Are we both not men who invent history, not merely exist in it? You are no more able to sit on the sidelines of the game than I am."

"And what game are we playing, Velasquez? Twenty questions?"

Carlos shrugged and pulled out a cigarillo. "If you wish."

Spreading his arms in a gesture of self-revelation, Sands said, "Ask away then."

The real issue was Tess – and they both knew it – but finding out a little more from this man would be a good idea too. "These are yours?" Carlos asked, waving his hand over the electronic monitoring devices.

"No. Much too pricey for personal use. Those are the property of good ol' Uncle Sam." Sands infused his answer with a healthy dose of sarcasm. _The same "good ol' Uncle Sam" who'd better be paying for my fucking funeral. And not some cheap cremation either._

Carlos raised his eyebrows. "I take it you're not too enthused with your employer then."

There was a longsuffering sigh and a headshake from the agent. "That's not a question, hombre. I'm afraid I have to leave you to draw your own conclusions." _And would **you** be happy if this were the second time you'd been captured by the enemy while on the job. So to speak._ Not that he had been either time. The nagging suspicion that he wouldn't get caught if he simply did as he was ordered was annoying.

"Alright, then how about: Would you be kind enough to tell me if Teresa knew about them?"

"You'd have to ask her. I honestly have no idea what la niña thinks she knows. Or thinks she doesn't know for that matter." It wasn't a total lie. He _never_ really knew what Tess was thinking. "After all, she's certain I just cheated on her with a five dollar whore, and she thinks that it doesn't matter to her. And I think we both know the truth about that one, don't we, Carl?"

The barb dug in just as Sands had intended it to, and Carlos asked the question he'd been anticipating. "Were you using her?"

Sands heard in Carlos' voice the rampant jealousy held in check. It amused him. Never in a thousand years would Tess give in to her cousin. He'd spent a bit of time thinking about that, then decided that Tessa's inflexibility when it came to her view of the world would kill any romantic notions Carlos held. Their supposed cousin-hood was an obstacle she'd held for too long to give up now. Or ever.

But the possibility of serious mind games was too good to pass up.

"Hmm . . . 'using.' Such a relative term, really. I suppose I _could_ be using her for all sorts of things. But I don't think I am. I think that a better term might be 'emotional and physical blackmail.' It has such a nice ring to it. Although, you'd better check with my boss just to be on the safe side, since he's the one that wanted her here. He had the crazy idea that she might have an easier time getting inside than one of us would. Go figure."

"What kind of blackmail?"

_What's this?_ Carlos' tone had taken on the slight timber of a man looking for a way out of a mess of his own making. That made Sands very uneasy, because it made him that that the drug lord was looking for a way to take blame off Tess for something. What had the twit done now?

"¡Agente!" Carlos slammed his hands down on the table. "Forget this nonsense. Teresa will soon answer any questions I wish to ask without playing moronic games. Tell me what this is!" He jabbed a finger at the scrap of paper that could have been anything the young artist had wished. Several times over.

"No se, but it looks like crayon to me." Sands dropped his cigarette butt and snubbed it out with his toe.

"Who made it?"

"I have no idea." Besides being the truth, it was probably what Tess would have wanted him to say. Of course the kid – _Marcos­ – _deserved better than to have his small family become international pawns. And for someone who wasn't quite a real person yet, he was okay.

"This is not something her child made?" Carlos demanded. He didn't like the idea that she'd had another man's – possibly this man's – child, but if she had, he needed to know about it. The child would still be young enough to be indoctrinated, and would also be a powerful tool to help . . . convince Tessa when need be.

"To my knowledge, she's never been pregnant," Sands drawled.

"And you, where did she meet you and why would she help you?"

"Well, I can't recall where I was, really. Being blind with pain at the time, not to mention I'd just had my eyes scrambling in their fucking _sockets_. . . ." Sands controlled himself. He'd let himself be baited and it couldn't happen again. Pretending a yawn to cover his misstep, he continued, "As for taking me under her rather impersonal wing, I believe she did it out of all the . . . strong emotions . . . in her heart." Hate. It was a strong emotion.

"And you are lovers."

"Uhn-uh, Carl," Sands tisked. "That's a statement. You're running out of questions."

Carlos made a visible effort to calm himself. _Damn,_ Sands thought. _Must have realized how much I was leading him on._

The other man lit snubbed out what was left of his cigarillo and leaned back in his chair. Several minutes went by before he asked another question. "How long? And don't pretend to 'no comprendo,' because Tess already confirmed that you were."

"How long?" Sands actually had to think back and count. "Four months. Off and on."

"Does she love you?"

_What the hell?_ Just how personal was this going to get? Did he also want dates and how many times? However, Carlos was waiting for an answer, and he was the one who ultimately controlled what happened to Sands, so the agent had to answer.

"No. She doesn't love me." _She's not that big a fool._

"What about you?"

"Oh, let me assure you, I love myself a great deal."

Carlos' face went stony. "If I get no information, then you are of no use to me, and I'll leave you here to stave to death. It isn't pleasant, I assure you. Even the strongest men break when their stomach becomes the size of a grape and starts devouring itself."

It was an ugly and crude threat, but it got the point across. Even so, Sands couldn't help but push the envelope a little farther. It was what he did in response to threats. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little bit more specific, Velasquez. 'About me' tends to fill a great deal of my mind at any given moment. Especially this given moment."

"Do you . . . love her?" The words hissed between Carlos' teeth.

Sands shrugged. "No se. Your cousin is a difficult woman to love simply because she's decided that love isn't worth the risk. Men are all scumbags, and professions of love or not, they're going to hurt her. A notion you've done nothing to disabuse her of when you sent that slut to visit me." Sands glanced at the door – it sounded as if someone was outside. "You'll never make her love you. And the more you try to bend or break her, the more hidden her rebellion will become. I know her type."

The door opened and Neva stuck her head in. Sands would have liked to put a bullet between her eyes, but that was unlikely. So he simply flipped her off and lit another cigarette.

Neva glared at him, then turned her attention to Carlos. "She just asked for you. She wants to talk."

Carlos stood and straightened his suit jacket. "We'll see, agent Sands, who will be broken and who will not."

The door slammed shut and Sands got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

Tess had to admit that Carlos' man knew what he was doing. By now she could look at things from a completely impassive standpoint. Her body had started to scream with pain hours ago, so she'd gladly retreated into her mind. The blows, welts, and throat-tearing screams of several hours before had been pushed back by cool detachment. She still felt her body jerk, and her hands clench, and her mouth open, nit she wasn't a part of it.

After the first two hours of resistance and cruelly thorough beatings, Tess had taken refuge in the one place left available to her – her mind. The voice had welcomed her, shielding her from the physical pain. There was nothing it could do to calm the spiritual hurt of so many betrayals, but it could soothe and offer what could be – if Tess wished – a more than temporary refuge.

It was so tempting. She'd been away from her new-founded life for too long; it had no weight to anchor her with anymore. Letters from home just weren't enough. The one man she'd trusted enough – and a hard trust it was! – to help her had turned away from her (although that part at least was understandable), and any life she had in Mexico would always be under her cousin's malicious shadow.

**_Better to give up,_** they all whispered to her. **_Stay with us. We need you to be a full chorus. Come play. Come forget._**

If they had yelled, if they had demanded; if they had cried, or cursed, or raged, or begged, she could have ignored them. A lifetime of resisting would be behind her to bolster her fading will. But they_ whispered_. They spoke with the same alluring voice, offering succor from all that hurt her. **_Resistance if futile,_**they said. **_All shall fade. Come, come, come._**

So it was in a strange way that the pain saved her from giving in entirely. It penetrated too deeply into her defenses, burrowing into her consciousness like an aching tooth. It irritated like a continual case of creepy-crawlies. There was simply no way she could rest until it went away.

_How do I make it stop?_ It was a childlike question asked in childlike bewilderment. _What did I do? How can I make it stop? You know. Tell me. I just want rest._

**_Sleepy,_** hissed a voice that was seldom heard. **_I reached for sleep and drew it round me like a blanket muffling pain and thought together in the merciful dark._ **

_Yes,_ Tess agreed. _So tired. Make them stop, Voice.****_

**_The man just came in._** The information was broken gently, as it had been before every beating. As if She were trying to be caring. **_Ask for Carlos. You have to talk to him for it all to stop. And then you can come to us. But first you have to talk to Carlos. Say that right now._**

_I want to talk to Carlos._

**_You have to say it out loud._** This time She sounded a little less caring.

"I . . . I want to talk to Carlos." Tessa's voice was a hoarse croak, but she was understandable.

No beating came. She waited an nothing happened. _What now? What's happening?_

**_He went to get Carlos. Just relax. I'll handle this part._**

_Won't he know? Tess fretted. Won't we get in trouble?_

**_Let me worry about that, Teresa. Just stay still. I'll take care of all of it._**

_Alright_ For the first time in her life, Tess willingly handed over her control and was content to take a backseat view through her own eyes. It was hard to stay focused though. There were so many Others to pay attention to. Sometimes one would catch her attention, and she'd wander after it until the pain spiked again and she would remember that while She was answering, She needed Tessa's help. If Tess lost concentration, then She wasn't sure what to say, and Carlos would grow impatient. So Tess made a greater effort to pay attention.

"What were you doing in Culíacan that day?"

_Easing pain._

"I'm a doctor," the voice would translate. "How many hundreds were hurt in that riot?"

"And Sands?"

Tess noted the feverish light in Carlos' eyes and wondered why it was there. Was he insane too?

**_Pay attention!_**

_Oh . . . I never asked._

"Like I said, I'm a doctor. He was hurt. I never asked why he was there or what he was doing. It wasn't any of my business."

"Then you knew nothing of his involvement?" Carlos demanded.

_I saw . . ._

"I saw him defend himself. Otherwise he was too busy lying in the middle of the road and bleeding to death."

More questions came, and She answered them from the pale responses Tess gave. Some – like how was Sands planning on interfering and where did his people go – she didn't have answers for, or she made the Voice lie on. She didn't want to cause pain any more than she wanted to feel it. It wasn't until the last questions, that Tess really started to pay attention.

"Are you ready to do as I say? No more rebellion? Will you submit?"

_Must I?_

_**Just until the pain fades. Then you can join us.**_

_Okay._

"Yes."

"In everything?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

_What? No._

"I will try to learn." The Voice managed to hold on to Tess, muffling her replies. This was dangerous territory, and She hadn't come this far to die now.

"Ah, querida." He was stroking her face again. Tess didn't like it. "That is what I have longed to hear. Just answer one more question, and I will let you go. Tell me, did you love him?"

_Him?_

_**Sands.**_

_Oh. I don't know. Ma –_

The Voice choked off Tessa's answer and gave Her own. "No."

Carlos smiled. "Very well, then. I have one task for you before I allow you to rest. It's an easy one. You will do it. No?" The Voice nodded. "Very good, querida."

Men to either side of her forced Tess to stand. The knife of pain that went through her ankle at the movement made Tess gasp at the same time it thrust her back into the fore of her consciousness. The voice went back, helping to support her, but ultimately leaving her to deal with this alone.

"My ankle," Tess gasped, drawing her leg up. "I can't walk."

Carlos frowned. "You will."

She shook her head. "No. I can –" Carlos slapped her.

"You promised to do as I said, Teresa. I say you will walk. Now do so."

Tess met his eyes, saw the iron determination in his, saw how very much he looked like her father, and realized she didn't have a choice.

The pain was something she'd dealt with before. Before she'd come to rely on the voice to help her through things. She could do this now. She had to do this now. With awareness came the fear of the choice she'd almost made. No, she couldn't give in, not now. Not ever. All she had to do was cooperate until she could get away. That was her goal now. She'd been abandoned and left to her own devices. Well, she'd escaped before, and she'd do so again.

Panting as she contained her moans of pain, Tess leaned on her two guards and hobbled after Carlos as he led her upstairs. To the medical bay. There he forced her to go in alone. "There is an irritant I must get rid of, querida. Permanently. He's a danger to our work tomorrow. I want you to choose something that will make this problem go away for me."

_He wants me to kill._ "I can't kill," she protested.

Again Carlos' rage was released. He wrapped one of his large hands around her throat and pressed her against the wall. "You can." His voice was low and dangerous. "And you will." He released her and she fell to the floor, gasping and choking. "Now, choose something that will kill without leaving marks or too many signs of poison."

**_Just do as he says._**

_I can't. I won't kill again. I won't._

**_You will. Because if you don't, after making you watch as he kills his enemy painfully and slowly, he'll tell you that you could have prevented it, and then he'll kill you. So you will._**

No. The voice was wrong. She was never going to kill again. But it was right about what would happen to her if she appeared to disobey again.

Using the wall, Tess pulled herself to her feet then limped to a cabinet. Reaching inside, she pulled out a vial of clear liquid. She retrieved a syringe from a drawer, then painfully made her way back to the door.

Once again hedged in by men in suits who held her up by the arms, Carlos led the small procession downstairs. Her tools had been confiscated by the men and put in their pockets against the chance she should fall and hurt herself. When they reached the stairs that led down to the cells, she shirked, then controlled herself. They weren't going there to punish her. Carlos was holding someone else. Not her. Not her.

Halfway down, they met someone coming up. At first, Tess had to cock her head, squint her eyes, and convince herself that she wasn't merely seeing things. Hallucinations had a feeling that came with them, and she wasn't feeling that now. No, this blonde coming towards them was real. Real and familiar.

_I've seen her._

_**Yes,**_ snarled the voice. **_The bimbo._**

Flashes of memory: blonde hair, heart-shaped face covered in tears, pouty lower lip. Sands in her arms. _"But my love . . ."_

"Making house calls now, Clarissa?" one of the men joked.

"You'd know," she said smoothly, her voice the same as Tess remembered it.

_We were tricked._

_**Carlos. He suspected. He tricked you.**_

"Bastard!" she hissed, struggling. "You lying, cheating, deceiving _snake_!"

Everyone came to a stop. Everyone but Carlos, that was. He turned to Tess and raised an eyebrow. "Are you speaking to me?" he asked, his voice silky.

**_Teresa, stop. You're going to – _**

"You broke my heart for no reason," she charged icily. "You manipulative bastard. I'm not yours to jerk around by a chain." Before she had the chance to spit at his feet, her escorts let go of her. Carlos moved out of the way as she toppled forward.

Crying out, she raised her arms to protect her head as she tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs. Luckily it wasn't far, but when she reached the bottom she was winded and cramped with pain.

Dimly she felt someone step over her, and heard Carlos say, "Once she comes around, bring her to the room. She still has a duty to fulfill."

* * *

Sands was surprised when Carlos reappeared less than two hours later. "I'd think you'd have better things to do with your time than to sit around and chit-chat with me," he drawled, noticing that this time several men came in with Carlos, as did the other Velasquez sibling. _Shit. This is it. Sayonara, Sands._ "I was under the impression that corporate takeovers, no mater what the corporation, take time and planning."

"Don't worry, Mr. Sands. In a few minutes I'll be free to resume my plans for tomorrow." Neva took her gun off her shoulder and trained it on Sands, although she seemed too relaxed to use it. The rifle she had in her hands had quite a recoil. You really had to be braced to use it.

"I just want you to know that I do have the smallest bit of respect for you, agent Sands. It takes an incredible amount of stupidity to meddle in cartel business once, much less twice. It seems that even torture won't make you think twice about sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong."

"Don't tell me you're going to chop of my nose," Sands sighed, determined to go out in the same way he'd lived. As an smart mouthed asshole.

"No, no, no," Carlos tisked, shaking his head. "There is only one way to hurt a man who has already lost everything – give him something broken back." Sands didn't know what choice Carlos had made, but his words and the tone of his voice made him uneasy.

"I had quite an interesting talk with Teresa, agent Sands. Unless Sands was imagining things, it sounded like two people dragging a unwilling or wounded third between them. His heart sunk. "It seems that she, unlike yourself, is able to tell when it's in her best interests to cooperate. And when it's best to change loyalties."

A group of three people stopped at the door, standing behind Carlos. The middle one was nothing but a slumped mass of hair and bruises displayed by short sleeves. Carlos reached out and pulled this one to him. Sands knew who it was without having to ask. _At least I know she didn't run to him and betray me,_ he thought. It was a cold comfort.

Tess had to lean heavily on her cousin to stay upright. He tenderly wrapped an arm around her, supporting her weight while his other hand gently brushed hair out of her face. "I am sorry for this, querida," he whispered, plainly forgetting that he had an audience. That Sands was still watching. Or that Neva was glaring at them, plainly feeling the urge to turn the rifle on her "loyal" cousin. Or perhaps it was on her brother, who was clearly delusional.

It was clear she was in pain, and that she wasn't totally in the moment. Tessa looked at the man supporting her, then her head moved – lolled – so she could survey the room. When they landed on her erstwhile lover, he could see that they were blank and vacant. _No, not vacant._ Focused internally with a concentration that brought sweat to her face. _Or perhaps it's the pain._

"You lied to me, Teresa. You allied yourself against me." Her gaze moved from Sands reluctantly, and turned back to Carlos. He stroked her cheek. "My uncle, your father, would have killed you for this . . . but I am more willing to forgive." Her eyes teared. "Half your punishment is over, now you must finish it yourself. This is the job you must do for me. It is simple, no? Just do this one thing, and I'll let you go to your rooms. I'll even bring a doctor to look at and set your ankle."

Tess slowly shook her head, denying what he'd said. That single motion seemed to enrage her cousin, and he harshly shoved her into the room. She landed awkwardly on her hip, not seeming to even have enough wits about her to catch herself. Sands automatically rocked forward on his toes to go to her, but a bullet planted itself into the floor at his feet.

"Don't touch her." Carlos' voice had lost its tone of remorse and had turned cold. "She knows what she has to do."

If she did, she showed no sign of it. Instead she didn't try to move from her position on the floor, mumbling to herself. "Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,/Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone."

"Teresa!"

She paid no mind to the rebuke. "Silence the pianos and with muffled drum./Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come." Carlos nodded to Neva, and she moved into the room; Tess didn't seem to notice. "Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead/Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead.'" Neva hauled her cousin to her feet with one hand while keeping one eye on Sands. Tess fought, her words going shrill. "Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,/Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves!" Once she'd gained her feet, Neva backhanded her hard enough to send her stumbling backwards, right into Sands. He barely managed to catch her.

"Ask him, Teresa."

"No," she mumbled through a fat lip. She didn't want to. She wanted to just stay where it was safe. He'd helped her once. Maybe he'd help her now.

Carlos strode into the room and jerked Tess away from Sands' grip. He spun her around and forced her to look at Sands. "Ask."

She shook her head. "What you don't know can't hurt you."

The man reached over and took a gun from his sister, pointing it at Sands over Tessa's shoulder. "Ask, or he's a dead man."

_What am I supposed to ask? Did he tell you?_

_**You're supposed to ask Sands if he loves you.**_ The answer was grudging.

A shiver ran through Tess, and she closed her eyes as if in pain. When they opened again and met his, she seemed to have regained some of her control. "Do you . . . do you . . . love. . . ?" She couldn't finish the question.

Sands glanced from one cousin to the other, and when he saw the murderous jealousy in Carlos' eyes, he realized what the question was meant to be, what the answer was, and what the consequences would be if he answered. For the first time in his life, he hesitated.

Carlos saw his indecision and cocked the gun, this time pointing it at Tess, although she didn't seem to notice. "Answer the señorita's question, señor."

Sands nodded slowly. "No. You were just geographically desirable."

Tess froze at his words, not quite believing that she'd heard correctly. But the look on his face was impossible to misinterpret. She shuddered again, and again her eyes closed, but when they opened this time there was a hint of madness in them. "He was my North, my South, my East and West. . ."

"You know what to have to do, Teresa."

". . . my working week and my Sunday rest."

Carlos uncurled her hands to reveal a small vial in one and a syringe in the other.

"My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song . . ." The lament continued as she filled the syringe and took a step out of her cousin's grip and towards Sands. He automatically retreated . . . right into two men who were waiting for him. ". . . I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong." Within seconds his arms were pinned at his side, and Tess crossed to him.

"The stars are not wanted now, put out every one . . ." She stepped close to him, tenderly running her fingers down the side of his face, her blue eyes sorrowful.

"Custida –" He tried to protest but at a look from Carlos, the men twisted his arms cruelly, making his breath leave him in a painful grunt.

". . . pack up the moon and dismantle the sun." She tested the plunger, shooting a thin stream of clear liquid into the air.

"Don't worry, Agent Sands." Carlos' words mocked him. "Even after being spurned Teresa doesn't have what it takes to be unduly cruel. Death will come quickly."

"Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood . . ." As Sands tried to jerk away, his head was caught, exposing his neck. Tessa's cool fingers trailed around the column of flesh, as if apologizing for her actions. He felt a prick, and a rush of coolness as she injected him with what he assumed was poison.

The men released him, and he stumbled back to lean against the wall, staring at Tess as his traitorous eyelids started to close.

". . . for nothing now can ever come to any good."

He fought, but the blackness was coming at him with a vengeance. The last thing he heard over the roaring of blood in his ears was Tessa's declaration, "Life is anything that dies when you stomp on it." And then his knees collapsed and he felt the distant pain of his nose impacting with the floor.

The room went black.

Tess stared down at the unmoving body at her feet, feeling the need to scream and weep and _hurt_, but she did none of those. Carlos hand settled on her shoulder to lead her away, but she paid no attention. The only thing that ran through her mind was, _What__ have I done?_ A question accompanied by a giddy excitement when one of the men pronounced the lack of a pulse in Sands' neck. Her hysterical, delighted laughter soon filled the room.

* * *

**Post Author's Note: **what say you all? Should I let it end here? } )

**Quotes:** now, not all of these are complete. Some of these are just bits and pieces from the listed works. The Little Ballad, by Luis Gongora y Argote; Various Effects of Love, Lope de Vega; Oscar Wilde; Catch-22, Joseph Heller; Nothing But Death, Pablo Neruda; a famous line from ST:TNG; a line from RotK, the movie; Mary Stewart; The Wounded Land, Stephen Donaldson; Twelve Songs IX, WH Auden; Dave Barry.

Wow.

**Author Thanks:** the author (me) would like to thank . . . **Shannon** (There, didn't say the e-word this time. Action scenes are not really my most favorite to write. I always think that I'm being too cut and dry. You'll have to tell me if that's true or not. But since you like them, I'm going to assume 'not.' I think that if I called up RR, it'd be like calling the guy you liked while in middle school – nothing but confusion would pass my lips. I'm ever so much more eloquent in writing. The PotC story is still just an idea. It's going to take lots of development to see it come through. But I've got plenty to write in the meantime.); **normal human being** (limpets. Always did think that was a funny word. I hope this was soon enough to update – it's a lot sooner than most of them have been this story. And the From Hell fic will make a quick appearance after this one. It's already in the works, and the first part of the chapter has been passed around between a few of my online buds. They like it, so I think you will too. Skyrocketing expectations only scare me if I let them down. Hopefully I won't.); **Isola** (You're telling me about the frantic pace. pants That chapter nearly killed me. And that would be bad, because I think you'd all be mad if I left it here. And happy endings are for fairy tales, of which this isn't once. Should I ever do a remake of Hansel and Gretel, then you'll get a happy ending.); **velly** (blushes I like to think I'm good at plot twists, but it's always nice to have that confirmed by someone that isn't me. The PotC fic – you're going to have to wait because all I have is a concept, and a fic to finish, and another to begin before I get to it. Thanks for the reminded about I do need to get there and update, although I don't have much bonus material to add.); **Kontara** (growls at glitches Well, at least you got to review this one. Everyone knows that writers live for reviews, and not for much else. I got to work on FS, and I'm planning to again…once I know what I want to happen next.); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl** (I'm glad you had the chance to catch up. I haven't made it easy for anyone. The chapters just seem to get longer and longer. Especially this one. And yes, it is exciting to have you back. ); **quick29** (Wow, your review reminded me of a telegram. You made me laugh. I read all your reviews. Can't wait to see what you write next. See? Thanks for the encouragement and compliments though.); **C.J. Davis** (I hope this chapter answered all your questions. And made new ones.); **Cayenne** **Pepper** **Powder** (hugs! It is something to know you've been reading. I'm always concerned that things have drug on for too long and people are loosing interest before I get to the really good parts. Unfortunately I didn't get to the rope and duct tape, but it does bring up some interesting mental pictures, doesn't it?); **Merrie** (Yes, I am evil, and I got even more evil during this chapter. If I'm really truly evil, then SJ is really, truly dead. :D And I can't believe the smut in MTD isn't enough for you. But then you probably just want some that you don't have to write too. If you're really good and get some AGC and DR out soon, I might throw in an motorcycle at the end, but I can't promise who'll be on it.); **Raven** (Wow. Queen of the reviews. bows down Sands is a great guy to have. I'm glad I got to write so much of him before the end . . . of the chapter. All Tessa's relationships are unhealthy to some degree, expect perhaps, the ones she has with the kids. Neva . . . Neva has too many faces for me to tell if she's good or bad. I think she's just out for herself. I'm glad that so much of the chapter was pleasant to read. I really do hope that I haven't spoiled you. That would be bad, but we do seem to see eye to eye on the happy relationship front. With my two romantic leads being so completely and irrevocable screwed up, I'd have to be living in a fantasy world to make their relationship be perfect. I'll e-mail this chapter to you, even if I'm not sure you're gone. What'd you get recruited for? Military? Nat. Guard? Sports?); **Dreamgirl21147** (Yes, you've caught on. I want to do my readers personal harm. : P I hope this chapter was worth the near falling off of chairs.)


	18. Lazarus

**Author's Note & Thanks at the end.**

* * *

Tess ached all over. She couldn't move without some part of her body informing her that it was in dire need of ace packs, or antiseptics, or Vicodin. Moreover, her mind was wont to wander and it felt . . . loose, like a Jell-O mold that had been shaken to smithereens. It was an uncomfortable feeling to say the least. What she wanted to do more than anything was to go up to her room and sleep until she woke like Rip Van Winkle and found the entire world changed around her. But she couldn't, and she realized this as Carlos delivered her to her bedroom door.

"What are you going to do with him?" she asked, most of her hysteria having passed. Even so, she caught the sharp glance Carlos threw her; undoubtedly, the question had been the last thing he wished to hear from her.

"That is none of your concern, querida. You have served well and have earned your rest. Now go."

Despite her firsthand knowledge of what would be gained from her defiance, Tess did not "go." This had to be settled first. "What are you going to do with him?" she asked again, her voice stronger this time. "I think I have a right to know what is being down with the remains of my work."

"I think an empty field is more than good enough for that _basura_." His eyes and voice were equally cold, giving her more than fair warning that he wouldn't allow her to pursue this topic for much longer.

"A field?" No. Dumping him like so much refuse simply wouldn't do. "There is a solitude of space," she murmured under her breath. "A solitude of sea/A solitude of death –"

"Teresa?" His look was now concerned.

**_As well he should be,_** the voice hissed as Tess shifted her weight from the wall onto her right foot.

_Not yet. Now is not the time. Patience is a virtue._

**_Soon. You cannot avoid us forever. _He_ cannot avoid us forever._**

_I know. Soon. Just a little bit of business to take care of first._

"Teresa?" It irritated Carlos to repeat himself, but the glassy look in Tessa's eyes disturbed him. It disturbed him even more when it left as easily as someone would push open a curtain.

"He deserves proper burial, Carlos. I don't care who he was in life. In death all men are equal. I would hope that someone would be kind enough to do the same for me." Oh, he did not look convinced at all. Not at all. "It's early still," she pressed while maintaining a façade of subservience. "Just give me a single man to dig a proper grave. I'll recite the last rites over him myself. Besides, if there are too many unexplained bodies in this area, _la policia_ will become interested. An unmarked grave goes unnoticed for far longer than a sun-bloated corpse." _Please just let me out of the house. One more chance for escape is all I ask. If I fail this time I deserve to be here._

Carlos studied her for a long time as if judging her reasoning and motivations. She passed all resentment on to the Others, knowing she'd pay for it later, but also knowing that it could get her killed now. Finally he nodded, and waved a hand in a gesture of semi-royal indulgence. "Very well, querida. You have a soft heart, but I to hope that if I were to meet our interloper's end," his tone made that sound more than doubtful, "that someone would argue for me as you have for a man you must hate."

She bowed her head, and murmured, "Thank you, Carlos." The words had too be forced out, and she had to steel herself from flinching when he claimed a kiss, but when he left . . .

When he left, she felt fierce triumph and protectiveness fill her. This was going to work. She was going to make it out. She'd be allowed her freedom and a last farewell at the same time.

* * *

Half an hour later when Tess had finally been able totter to the front terrace, she found that her plans for escape had become that much more complicated by the presence of her cousin. Carlos obviously had other things to deal with, but he had thought nothing of assigning Neva to this grave-digging detail. By the look on her face, it was not a task she relished.

**_That makes three of us. Did you bring enough?_**

Tess thought about the weapon in her purse, considered how long it'd take to reload after shooting one cartridge before she could fire another, and considered just how fast Neva was with her gun. Or the man with the shovel for that matter. It wasn't anyone she recognized, but this close to the date of Carlos' attack, it was idiotic to think that he wouldn't be armed.

"I hear this is your idea, ratón," Neva challenged as Tess limped to the car.

"It's the human thing to do," the battered woman replied, refusing to be cowed. There were only two things they could do to her that they hadn't done already. And death was starting to look attractive in a reluctant sort of way. "Isn't it enough for you that there will be no headstone and no one will ever be certain of what became him?" Once again Tess stood by as her words were weighed, although Neva was much less likely to accept them at face value than Carlos was.

The arrival of a two more men lugging a column of dead weight between them interrupted her musings. "I don't trust you, _amante__ de __la paz_."

"That's alright," Tess replied softly as Neva walked away. "I don't trust you either." Neva paused, but she showed no inclination to further debate the issue, which caused Tess to relax a great deal. Putting the argument out of her mind, she instead focused on the way the two men hauled Sands' body over to the car. She was surprised when Neva opened the backseat door for them and they slung his unresisting mass inside. The man who was with them to do the actual labor slung his shovel into the trunk. He then climbed into the driver's seat while Neva took the passenger seat, leaving Tess to squeeze into the back with the body. Understandably, she hesitated, not wanting to become that acquainted with his clammy skin.

"What's wrong, ratón? Rethinking your mission of mercy?" The mockery Neva's voice contained sent the rebellious factions in Tessa's head into a fury. They reminded her that she'd completed her studies as a medical examiner, that she'd planned this, that she was not weak, that death appealed to her. It was none of these that her into the car though. What got her into the car was more than a decade of proving her entire family wrong; a perverse need to do the exact opposite of what they expected from her.

Moving slowly for more reasons than her protesting ribs and shoulders, Tess climbed into the care. Her gentle hands picked Sands' head up as she sat down, and just as gently laid it back down. Just because he wouldn't feel any pain now didn't mean she had any desire to be rough. The opposite was true; he looked so peaceful that apart from the cool, pale, clamminess of his skin, she would have assumed he was asleep.

Neva watched all this with indifferent eyes, cursing her brother for a fool. The _perra_ was obviously still smitten with the American. And he was a corpse. If Carlos couldn't manage to beat a dead man for Tessa's affection, then he'd never be able to get them at all. But that was Carlos' foolery and no concern of hers, so she turned to the driver and told him to go.

* * *

Apparently even with an unmarked grave there was a proper distance to go, through Tess wasn't sure what it was. All she knew was that after the first half hour, Sands' skin started to warm under her fingers. Unsure of what was happening, she moved them to just beneath his jaw – there was a faint pulse.

She wanted to scream in relief. Earlier she'd been too out of things to be sure if she'd grabbed the right bottle, and her eyesight had been too blurry to check. The vial she'd grabbed was in the same cabinet as all the poisons Carlos had insisted she have, but she'd hedged her bets. Killing wasn't something she could do, or at least cold-blooded murder wasn't, but Carlos wouldn't insist on the poisons unless he intended to see them used. By her. So the logical thing to do – in her mind – was to buy a black-market drug that slowed a person's respiration and pulse to mimic the effects of death. Of course, too much of the stuff would kill someone just as surely as digitalis . . . and she hadn't been paying attention when she'd given it to Sands. Until this point, she hadn't know if Sands would wake up or not. But she'd gotten him out of the building all the same. And she was here with him to try to keep him alive long enough for them to escape.

Now, if the car would stop before he woke up, that would be a good thing.

Tessa's tension climbed with every mile they went without stopping. They were far outside city limits by now, far from any houses or fields. Just dry land and scrub could be seen from the windows.

_What do I do if we don't stop?_

**_Easy. Just get _****_Neva_****_ first, force the driver to stop, get him, and then unload the bodies._**

That was too dangerous in her mind. There was no guarantee that she wouldn't get shot before she could reload. And if she was shot, Sands would die, she'd be taken back to the compound, and Carlos patience in her would most likely give out. She'd be dead before the sun rose.

It was another fifteen minutes before they pulled off the road and the driver took them off-road for awhile. When Neva judged they were sufficiently distant from the highway and anyone who might come by, she ordered the man to stop. He did and immediately got out of the car, and retrieved his shovel. Neva and Tess stayed where they were.

**_Too long, too long. You realize that, don't you? This is taking too long. You should have just let them dump him. He could have made his own way back to civilization._**__

_We don't know that._

Neva turned in her seat and disturbed the mental debate. For a long few minutes, she and Tess did nothing but stare at each other, Tess growing more and more uncomfortable and Sands growing warmer and warmer.

_Don't move. Please don't move. Don't wake up yet._ Her hand tightened on his shoulder.

"Well," Neva finally said. "I always knew you were a cold _perra_, Teresa Barillo, but that does not explain why you're clinging to a corpse." Her eyes were suspicious and filled with loathing.

**_Calm now. Don't spook her._**

_Thank you. I knew that much._ Wetting her lips, Tess said quietly, "It was better than having him bouncing all over my lap, Neva. Perhaps I'm just more accustomed to death than you are though."

"You!" She laughed. "You turn green anytime someone dies. The only reason you killed him was because Carlos had a gun to your head."

_He did? I must have missed that._ "You're wrong, Neva. I had no idea Carlos even had a gun."

"Then why is he dead?"

"Because it suited me for him to die." She studied his pale, blood-covered face – this time from a broken nose – and remembered cleaning his face of blood once before. She'd been gentle then, aware of the madness inducing pain he had to be feeling. On the grand scale of things, a broken nose was better than dying or torture, so she didn't feel too guilty.

"You lied didn't you? About loving him?" When the gun had appeared in her hand, Tess didn't know, but she watched as Neva used it to gesture towards the body in her lap.

"No. I didn't. I don't love him because I chose not to. But would _you_ tell Carlos anything less than what he wanted to hear if he was mad at you?"

That made Neva shut up, at least for a moment. She checked on the progress of their digger, and then looked back. "Why did you come back, Teresa? We know all about your life in New York." Tess paled. Did they know? No, they couldn't, or Neva would look more than curious. "We know that you were blackmailed into coming here. But what was it? Just what did the government have over you to get you to come back when you so obviously hate us all?"

**_Let me tell her. _Please_ let me tell her. I want to see her face when she realizes that you're crazier than a loon and much more dangerous._**

_No._ Resisting the urge to put a hand to her forehead to return the pressure the voice was exerting, Tess said, "If it was used as blackmail once, why would I tell anyone else? You don't need to blackmail me at the moment, but you're right, I don't trust any of you."

_Com'on, Sands! Wake up, you lazy bastard._

* * *

For some reason, Sands had expected death to be more . . . peaceful. He'd been close enough to dying before to know the cold, still embrace of death, he'd even gone so far as to welcome it as an alternative to the feverish pain that'd overcome him after the loss of his eyes. But this . . . what he was feeling now was cold, but it most certainly was not still. And it was not peaceful. It didn't even feel stationary.

Annoyed by this lingering sensation that something was wrong, and feeling mildly irritated that he wasn't just being allowed to die, Sands tried to discover what was going on. His thoughts were sluggish and incoherent as he tried to open his eyes. He couldn't. For the few seconds before memory surged, he panicked, thinking that everything since flipping off Ramirez in that alley had been a pain-induced dream. But then he realized that while he could feel his body, he couldn't move anything. He was cold, but there were two points of fiery heat on his neck, and his shoulders were warm.

_Tess,_ he remembered. _She gave me something, the little bitch. Why aren't I dead? What are they planning?_ Moreover, why couldn't they just make up their minds and let him die? It was all very annoying. Perhaps he'd tell them that in a little bit.

* * *

"Come on," Neva said, climbing out of the car. "Let's get this done with." Through the windshield, Tess could see the driver coming towards the car. Her muscles jumped to attention as her door opened and Neva hauled her out of the way so they could get Sands' body out. She stumbled, nearly fell to the ground, but regained her balance. The purse in her hands had never had a chance of falling since her fingers were locked in a death grip around it. If she dropped that, the game would be up. And she was so very close to winning.

While Neva stood back to allow the man to grab Sands roughly under the arms and haul him out, Tess watched and slipped her hand into her purse to pull out her weapon. She couldn't help but feel that Sands was starting to become aware by now, even if he'd done nothing to reinforce her belief. But she knew the drug – or at least the papers that had been written about it and its effects – an she knew that it should be starting to wear off by now. It wouldn't fully work out of his system for a few days, making his reflexes slow, his eyesight blurry, and his head throb, but it was still better than what her family had planned.

When his nose started to trickle blood again as his posture changed, Tess kept her face impassive. If anyone noticed and asked, she'd just say it was blood that was running downhill now that his head was raised. No one asked. By the time they had him out of the car, it didn't matter anyway. She had bigger worries.

As Sands' legs were pulled free of the car and his feet hit the ground, he must have been aware enough to know that something was going on, because he let out a small moan. Everyone froze, Neva and the driver asking themselves if they'd really heard what they thought they had, and Tess slipped a cartridge into her air gun.

_Traitor._ Neva whirled on her cousin, gun coming up just as Tess raised hers. Their eyes met and Neva actually hesitated at the expression of gleeful savagery in Tessa's eyes that was so at odds with Tessa's serious face. Tess used that brief pause to fire her first sedative dart. It hit Neva in the arm, instantly injecting it's load before Neva had a chance to rip it out. As Neva fired her gun – the bullet shattering the car window and grazing Tessa's ribs – the driver dropped Sands and pulled his open weapon. Tess winced to hear Sands' grunt of pain, but if she didn't drop this man, his pain wouldn't last long.

She ducked behind the car, making it look as if she'd been too weak to stand and that taking down Neva had been her last defiance. Almost certain that the man had orders from Carlos not to kill her, she reloaded her weapon and fired through the window the moment the man's beefy shoulder came into view through the broken window. He dropped like a stone.

Tess stayed huddled next to the car for a few long, agonizing minutes, wondering if she'd actually succeeded or if everyone else was just waiting for her to come out with her guard down. Her mind played images of her stepping out from behind her shelter and either the driver or Neva springing up and gunning her down. Out of dying eyes she'd watch as they advanced on Sands and did the same to him. He'd never know that she'd tried to help him, that she'd done everything in her power to keep from hurting him. She would die a failure.

But if she stayed here, then she lived a coward, and that was just as distasteful. "The distance between insanity and genius," she murmured, leaning forward to crawl instead of trying to walk, "is measured by success." And with that, she poked her head around the car door.

Neva was well and truly asleep, more relaxed than Tess had ever seen her. It was strange to see her like that – as if by looking she was stealing something – so Tess adverted her eyes and looked towards Sands. At first she wondered if she'd been hiding longer than she though, and if he'd gotten up at left, because she certainly didn't see him. Then she realized that the reason she didn't see him was that Neva had fallen across his legs, and the driver was lying face-down, covering the rest of him.

_Oh dear._ There was no way she was going to be able to move the two of them on her own. She didn't like it, but it looked as if she was going to have to sit around and wait for Sands to wake up and help her.

Painfully, Tess crawled through the dirt to sit by Sands. The driver's shoulder was over his face. That was bad; she needed to be able to see him. Using her right foot to brace herself, Tess _pushed_, hissing in pain as the exertion made her back scream.

She was weak from her own blood loss, broken bones, and the shock of having been beaten, but she was determined. _Have to see Sands face,_ she told herself as she gasped down a breath and pushed some more. _Have to. Have to. Have t– The_ body flipped over and Tess recoiled in terror. He neck and lower face were coated in blood. She'd killed him.

_What? How. . . ?_ No. The entire point of the darts had been to keep from killing anyone. She didn't like killing. "I don't, I don't," she assured herself, unable to look away from the blood that now stained her hands as well. "I didn't mean to. Oh god, I didn't mean to."

**_You must have shot the dart at an awkward angle,_** the voice whispered treacherously. **_It must have torn through his jugular. He would have bleed to death very quickly._**__

_But I didn't want to –_

**_It doesn't matter now, does it? Now, who's driving the getaway vehicle, Bonnie? _****_Clyde_****_ won't be able to. He's going to have a hard enough time seeing straight. And you need to check on him. Forget the corpse and focus on the living._**__

_Right. Living._ Tess took several deep breaths and forced herself to look at Sands. _I already knew I had to drive,_ she protested. _That part I knew._ The voice wasn't convinced, but Tess ignored it and checked Sands' pulse with shaky hands instead. Despite the man collapsed on top of him, he was breathing just fine, and his pulse was stronger.

After another ten minutes of waiting for something to happen, she decided that they didn't have anymore time to waste. Sands was going to have to wake up whether he liked it or not. With that decided, she reached out and shook his shoulder.

Nothing. He didn't ever so much as growl as she disturbed him.

_No, no, no, no. This will not do._ Unreasonably, Tessa glared at the unmoving bulk of man she was trying to wake. _If I don't get to sleep, you don't either._ "Sands?" she called, shaking his shoulder again and wincing as the muscles along her poor, abused ribs pulled tight. "Sands, you have to wake up now. This isn't a safe place to sleep. It's not even a clean place to sleep." She looked down at the dust covering the legs of her pants. "Now I need to wash my clothes," she muttered, momentarily distracted from her task. "See? You need to wake up so we can go somewhere where I can wash my clothes. And yours. You're dirty too." _Why isn't he talking to me? Is he mad at me?_ "Please, wake up, Sands. I'm sorry I had to lie. Don't be mad, please don't be mad. Everyone is mad at me. I'm lonely. You need to wake up so we can leave. I want to go home. Please wake up. _Please_. . . ."

* * *

Someone was talking. It sounded like he was being nagged, and he could only imagine who would have the audacity to nag him when he was doing his best to die silently. It took a great deal of patience to do so, and he was doing a very good job of pretending to be accepting of all this, but some _female_ wasn't letting him.

_Female._ The concept wouldn't leave him alone, just like that voice wouldn't shut up. It pulled at his attention, forcing him to wonder what importance it had. Why would he care about a word? Especially that one? Women were nothing but trouble, and they certainly weren't worth worrying over. He should know. He'd met lots of women, most of whom he could no longer stand. So why didn't that damn feeling just leave him alone? Maybe if he listened to what was being said. . . .

_"You have to get up. You're getting all dirty, and the man bled on you, and you'll get the car dirty, but that can't really be avoided I suppose because you have to be in the car. Right? Oh, you're still not talking to me. I'm sorry. I know I said it before, but I'm sorry. It was the only way out. You see that, right? But we can't stay in the desert. They'll come looking, and these two . . . well, I suppose she'll wake up. I didn't mean to kill the other one. It was an accident. I don't like killing. You know that. Please just wake up."_ Whoever it was, she was not making much sense. That realization triggered another memory of its own: a dark woman with sad eyes and a blank face, moving around a room and cleaning things up.

_Tessa._ This was all her fault. If she'd only been in her room, all this could have been avoided.

_"Oh look. I got some blood on you. I'm sorry. I was brushing at some dirt . . . if Father saw me now, I would be in so much trouble. And that's why you have to get up. We need to go somewhere and get cleaned up before anyone sees us. Sands? Can you hear me?"_

Yes, damnit. He could hear.

* * *

Tess had just about lost hope when she reached down to shake Sands' shoulder for the fifth time in less than ten minutes. They really did need to go. If Neva woke up before Sands did. . . . She shuddered. Neva was unbearable before she'd had a cup of coffee to wake her up.

"We have to go now, Sands," she murmured urgently, shaking his shoulder, then jumping back as he groaned. _Did I imagine that? _she demanded, not caring who answered. _Am I hallucinating?_

**_I wish._** The grumpy answer was muttered as Sands' eyes fluttered as he tried to open them. Tess sat breathless, watching him, still half convinced that she was conjuring this all up. **_You could always just ask him._**__

_Oh. Yes. I suppose I could._ Tentatively, she reached out an arm and brushed his shoulder. "Sands?"

His head turned, and once he was done wincing from the pain the move created, his eyes focused on her. He frowned. "Fuck. Why can't I move?"

A spill of giddy laughter that had nothing to do with humor spilled from her mouth before she clapped her hands over it. Tess forced herself to calm down and lower her grimy, bloody hands. "They're lying on you. I didn't mean to do it. They just kinda fell there."

"They who?" he asked patiently, silently cursing as he become conscious of the fact that he was missing a contact.

"Neva. And the driver. I don't know what his name was. It's rude to kill someone when you don't even know their name, don't you think?" Her mind felt as if she'd spent the last half-hour riding a tilt-o-whirl; her mental balance was off.

Sands shrugged. "It happens. Help me move them." Whatever it was that she'd given him – and they _would_ talk about that later – had left him as weak as a kitten. Tess didn't seem to understand that though, because she just sat there and stared at him blankly. "Well, get up and help me," he said irritably as the sensation of being penned down made his skin start to crawl.

"I can't," she murmured pathetically. "My ankle is broken. I thought you did it."

"Me?" He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, not realizing until it was too late that it was broken. His yelp seemed to make Tess even more miserable. "Never mind," he hissed, using his arms to help him sit up. "Just help me push them off." This time she nodded and together they rolled the dead man onto the ground. With that weight gone, it was an easy enough matter for Sands to slip his legs out from under Neva's dead weight.

"Is there a car?" he asked as he climbed to his feet, weaving for a moment until the world around him steadied. _Damn._ This whole missing one contact while having the other was irritating. His depth perception was out of whack.

Tess nodded and clambered to her feet, noticing that Sands didn't offer to help her up, and not particularly caring. She was a big girl. She could take care of herself if she had to. Up until last night – was it last night or the night before? – she'd been doing a good job of it considering the circumstances. So she tilted her chin up with all the pride that'd been taught her as the daughter – wanted or otherwise – of a powerful man, and took a step forward. Her pride didn't keep her from crying out as she felt the broken ends of the bones in her angle rub together under the weight she was forcing on them, and it didn't keep her from almost falling flat on her face.

Sands caught her before she landed, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her against his side. The pain from this maneuver almost caused her to swoon. "Stop," she hissed, trying to arch away from his arm and his body at the same time. "That hurts."

_Of course it does._ Sands remembered the sight of her bruised and swollen face back at the hacienda and wondered how much color a few more hours had given her cheeks. Stooping, he picked up a fallen rifle and examined the stock.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Tess stuttered, inching away. He wasn't going to shoot her like one would shoot a lame horse, was he?

"Relax, niña. Does this thing have a light on it?"

"You're going to smoke? Now?"

Sands rolled his eyes despite his headache. "A flashlight, Teresa. Does it have a flashlight?"

"Can't you see it?"

Her words caused a wave of ice to sweep down Sands' spine. More than anyone else, she should know better than to ask him questions like that. _Of course, she hates me now, so why not point out my vulnerabilities and rub my face in them?_ "If I could see it, pequeña, I wouldn't have to ask, would I?" His voice was tight despite the drawl he spoke in. "Although I suppose you did answer my question in a roundabout sort of way. Stand still." His searching fingers flipped the light on and he shined it in her face.

Tess winced as the light hit her eyes, not noticing until that point that it was well and truly dark out. With the light in her hands, she couldn't see Sands at all. He was nothing more than a black, man-shaped blob against the dark grey background of the distant mountains. "What are you doing?" she asked again, forcing herself not to give ground to her companion. If this was another test, then she'd pass it. Part of her fondly remembered the days when he used to test her often; the voice told it that it was crazy. Tess agreed.

The light brought the ugly swellings on Tessa's face to bright relief. Sands stared for a moment, wondering why a man who professed love for the woman in front of him would abuse her so thoroughly. Not that for a moment he believed that Carlos actually loved Tessa. Desire he'd buy, but not love. But it was better that Tess didn't realize he was imagining his hands around Carlos' throat.

"Looks like you've been clumsy again, niña. What'd you do? Throw yourself into someone's fist a few times?"

Incredibly, she blushed. "No. I fell down the stairs. I saw that bimbo at the hacienda and lost me temper."

Alright. That was close enough to an apology about her hysterics about that blonde bitch. He wouldn't bother to squeeze anything else out of her at the moment, at least not on that matter. "Where else?"

"Head, ribs, back, ankle. However, I can see straight which is an advantage over you. I'll drive, but we have to get going. Traveler, embrace the morning light, but do not take the hand of night. We have to _go_. I'm sure Neva was supposed to report back by a certain time, and when she doesn't, they're going to send out cars to search for her and for me. And you, if anyone finds her soon."

Sands gave in to that reminder, and after collecting all the guns he could find from the two bodies on the ground, he followed Tess towards the car in silence. Too much had happened for them to talk to each other now. Perhaps too much had happened period.

And if leaving her had been the idea from the start, why did it leave a bad taste in his mouth now?

* * *

They'd been on the road for little over an hour, but they hadn't gotten very far from the place they left Neva and the dead henchman. It seemed that one of those lingering effects of the drug Tess had given Sands was a propensity for motion sickness. They'd had to pull over three times so he could first empty his stomach, and then dry retch on the side of the road. On two of those occasions, Tess ending up throwing up as well, but after that she was simply too weak to bother with her upset stomach.

It was after the latest of these stops as Tess sat in the car trying to enjoy the cool night breeze as Sands worked off the last of his nausea, that the events of the past forty-eight hours hit her like a brick. She was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. All she wanted to do was cry for a good hour, take a long, hot bath, and then sleep for a week. In the middle of these thoughts, Sands clambered back into the car, and she took note of his own wearied movements.

"If we don't hit a town in the next forty-five minutes," she told him quietly, "I'm going to find a good place for us to pull off the road. If I drive for too much longer, I'm going to fall asleep at the wheel, and that would be a really stupid way to die after everything else." Sands nodded his agreement, either of her statement or her plan, but didn't say anything.

_Not that I expected him to,_ she thought as she turned the key in the ignition and put the car in gear. Her words had been the first sentences spoken since they'd gotten into the car – Sands' strangled sounds of gastrointestinal distress didn't count.

The appointed fort-five minutes came and went, leaving Tess to scan the passing countryside for a likely place to stop. Unfortunately, the seemed to be driving on some sort of elevated section of highway that crossed a ravine. Trying to descend here would be difficult even if her reflexes and eyesight were perfect, which they weren't at the moment.

"Alright, I can take a hint," she muttered, leaning forward in her seat a bit to take some pressure off her back. For the fifth time inside the hour, she adjusted her rearview mirror . . . and cursed. Vehemently.

"What?" Sands asked, perking up a little out her outburst.

"Lights."

"Where?" He squinted through the windshield.

"Not ahead, CIA man. Behind us." She knew it was the last thing she wanted to do, but Tess couldn't help but accelerate a little.

"If we passed a town, why didn't you. . ." He trailed off as he realized what kind of lights she'd seen behind them. "How far behind?" he asked, reaching down to double and triple check the rifle and the two handguns he'd pilfered.

"I don't know. It's hard to tell in the dark. Maybe half a mile."

"Alright. Just drive, niña. Don't speed up yet."

**_What does he think you are? A moron?_**__

_Not helping._ Tess checked her mirror again and saw that the car had reappeared over whatever rise it'd been hidden behind. _They've hit the same stretch we're on,_ she realized uncomfortably.

**_And they're speeding up._**

_They are?_ How could the voice tell when they were looking out of the same exhaustion-muddled eyes?

**_Yes._**

"They're speeding up," she told Sands. "So –"

"So they're either really desperate to pass us, or to catch up with us." Briefly letting go of one of his guns, Sands reached up and removed his other contact. The disparity between his eyes was only a hindrance at the moment. He'd proven that he was just a good a sight blind as visioned . . . he just hoped that was still true when the world was nothing but a blur. _If worse comes to worse, I'll just close my eyes._ "Niña?"

"What?" she responded shortly. God help him if he said something disconcerting now.

"Whatever happens –"

"Sands," she said warningly.

"– keep your eyes on the road." Tess could hear the smirk in his voice. "Were you expecting something else, chica?"

She muttered and checked her mirror. "They're coming up fast. You should be able to see them in your mirror."

"Can't see that much at the moment, sugarbutt. Just keep watching the road as I climb into the backseat." Despite the tension of the situation, Sands heard Tessa's snort of exasperation, and it almost made him smile.

"Put on your seatbelt," she snapped, just _knowing_ that he found her anxiety amusing.

"Tessa –"

"No arguing. Put on your seatbelt. If you haven't noticed, there's no guardrails around here, and if we go plunging down the ravine, I'd prefer knowing that at least you are going to go flying through one of the windows."

"I –­"

"Sands!" she interrupted yet again. "Don't make me stop this car." There was incredulous silence in the back seat for a few seconds, but then she heard the sound of a seatbelt locking.

"Tyrant," he muttered.

"Thank you."

The time for talking was over. Sands rolled down the window on the left side of the car and the sound of wind filled the small space. Surprise was always an excellent tactic, so he slouched in his seat and waited. Anticipation had replaced his embarrassingly weak stomach, and he waited with baited breath for the other car to catch up with them; he watched the headlights grow closer through Tessa's side mirror. He couldn't see the writing from here, but he knew what it said: Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. _Not close enough though._

When the car started to speed up, he made a low sound. Tess must have heard it over the wind because she slowed down again. _Good girl._ It must have been days since she'd been allowed to take her medication, but she was handling all this remarkably well. Sands admired that kind of self-control.

"Oh no." Tessa's words floated back to him.

"What?" he asked, wondering what else could have managed to go wrong.

"There's a second car. It just came into view . . . and it's coming really fast." Her hands ached from where they were locked on the steering wheel. Terror was fighting to take her over, to slam her foot down on the gas pedal; to make her stop the car, get out, and run for her life. The Whisperers were getting excited by the total lack of control she was feeling, and the only thing that stood between her and meltdown was the voice.

**_You owe me for this,_** it whispered.**_ You owe me big time._**

_I owe myself some anti-psychotics._ The car directly behind them had caught up with them and seemed content to simply travel behind them for a moment, and the car behind it continued its mad race to catch up. If it kept traveling as fast as it was, it would in just a minute or two. _Are we being boxed in, or is that just some innocent behind us?_ she wondered, one hand twitching down to set the cruise control as she should have long ago.

"The second car is coming up," she said, trying not to panic.

"What's the first one doing?"

She watched. "It's just sitting behind us." Without having to ask, Tess knew Sands was thinking the same things she had earlier.

The only thing he said though, was, "Don't let them force you off the road."

_How encouraging._ "Okay, the second car is just a few seconds behind us, but I don't think –" Whatever she thought became irrelevant as the first car turned on its blinker and slid into the other lane as if preparing to pass. "The first one is passing."

Sands stole a peek out the window. _She's too naïve._ "Not it's not, chica. It's shadowing us. When I tell you, hit the gas." Tess wiped her palms on her jeans then resettled her hands on the wheel. Miraculously, she wasn't tired anymore. "What's the second car doing?"

"Tailgating." She _hated_ her family! All she wanted was a quiet life. She didn't want to be involved in any of this.

"Alright, when I say go, hit the gas. Understand?" The back of her head moved as she nodded. Sands watched as the front windows of the first car drew even with his own. If they caught up with Tess, that would be bad. "Go." Their car jerked forward as Tess hit the accelerator at the exact same time the second car tapped their bumper. As Sands was thrown forward by the force, he was very glad that Tess had insisted on the seatbelt.

Tess watched the speedometer as it crawled past 70 mph, to 80, then 90. . . The accelerator was pressed against the floor, but the engine was sluggish to move past the 95 mph mark. That was fast enough though; Tess had never driven this fast in her life, and she discovered to her chagrin that the car had a tendency to want to steer itself depending on the whims of the road. Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip and winced as she watched the other two cars gain on her.

**_Hmm, they must have newer models._ **Tess didn't dignify that with a reply.

"Go faster," was the advice from the backseat.

"I'm trying," she replied tightly, her hands – she was sure – leaving permanent grips in the steering wheel. "They don't send the nice cars out to haul corpses."

"Gee, thanks for that information," Sands muttered as he adjusted his grip on a pistol. He couldn't really see anyone in the cars, and sound didn't help him locate their position, but he could lay down random fire if he had to. "They're coming up on your left again."

"I see them." Yes, she saw them, but there wasn't much she could do about it. This gully went on for miles apparently, because she still didn't see an end to it, and that was amazing considering the speeds they were traveling at.

Both cars inched up until they once again boxed in the two fugitives. Tess suddenly _knew_ that there was going to be no mercy shown. They were not just going to be escorted somewhere where they could be rounded up and taken back to the hacienda. This was for keeps, and the losers were going to die.

On the heels of that thought, the car behind them bumped into them. Tess gasped as their speed worked against her and the car almost went out of control. Jerking the wheel to the left, she swerved into the car at their side. It swerved back, trying to push them over the edge of the embankment. "Sands!" She didn't know what he could do, but his name and the plea for help escaped her anyway.

"I see." Not bothering to aim, he pointed his gun at the other car and fired. Whoever was driving decided that Tess wasn't as helpless as she appeared and they pulled away. The car behind them took advantage of the distraction though and rammed into the back of the car. Once again, Tess had to jerk the wheel to keep from flying off the road.

Moving in tandem, the two cars worked to force Tess and Sands off the road. Fed up, Sands aimed for the darkest blotch he could see in the car next to him and fired . . .

. . . his shot killed the driver . . .

. . . the car went out of control and slammed into theirs . . .

. . . Tess tried to swerve back onto the road, but the car next to them didn't move. All it took was a nudge from the car behind, and she lost control of the vehicle.

. . . She screamed as she felt the car tip onto its two right wheels . . .

. . . the world was nothing but dark, spinning confusion . . .

. . . and then pain.

* * *

**Author's Note: **alright, alright. I confess: I like being evil. No, that was not the last chapter. Yes, I liked hinting that it was. Some of you were absolutely right in your reviews about what Tess really gave Sands, and I assure everyone that should I ever decide to kill him, he'll go out with much more of a fight. Again, I am accepting angry rants for where I ended, but I really must get a chapter of my Secret Window fic out. I'll try to make it quick.

Next chapter: final confrontation with Carlos.

**Quotes: **Emily Dickenson; James Bond: Tomorrow Never Dies; Sabriel, by Garth Nix

**Thanks:** many, many thanks to my irate reviewers, who include **LadySparrowJack** (If you can see what I do while writing, then I'm more than pleased. Sometimes I struggle with expressing myself, but its nice to see that it's all worth it.); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl** (Yes, I'm evil. I accept that. And see? I was a good girl – kinda – and relieved some of the suspense. So, no dying until I finish this story. Or FS. By which time I will have started the From Hell fic. And I might start the PotC one before I finish the FH fic. And then I might write another OUATIM fic. So…no dying for awhile, capische?); **Merrie** (insert reply here Yes, I was very happy with myself, and if I encouraged you angsty-ness, then I'm more than pleased with myself.); **velly** (You're right. Ending there would have been cruel, and while I'm not the nicest to my characters, I wouldn't just leave Tess hanging there with all those dangling threads and no one to get her out.); **normal** **human** **being** (lol – wow. I am apparently too convincing for my own good. holds out wrist to be slapped The ending is not quite upon us – there will be some closure between Tess and Sands – but I expect in three chapters or so.); **Takada** **Saiko** (See how I respond to my reviewers? Really quick updates after I've pulled an evil trick. not that I'm sorry for the trick, of course Sands father _might_ come in at a later date and fic. The two men don't get along, so Sands kinda avoids him.); **Cayenne** **Pepper** **Powder** (It doesn't end there. Of course, by this time, you've figured that out. Thanks so much for the complements – especially when I look at Miss Becky's work and think "OMG, I still have so far to go." And don't feel sorry for Tess quite yet. She's going to hate me in a bit.); **quick29** (The ending – or at least the climax before the closure – is still a few chapters away. I'm just evil and wanted to worry everyone. looks angelic Glad you're enjoying FS. I'll get to work on that one next.); **zukie** (no, I just made everyone think I had killed Sands. You should try it sometime. You get some rather strong reactions. ); **lieke** (you're right – that is a totally anticlimactic ending for the story, and I wouldn't end there in a thousand years…but you're all so much fun to play with. When the real ending comes, you won't have any questions because you'll know. It'll be the right place to end it.); **Kontara** (Yes, I do realize you hate me. That was sorta the point. You're still free to hate me after this cliffhanger.); **Raven** (Well, I wasn't sure you were around or not, so if I didn't see a review from you by the time I posted this, I was going to e-mail it to you. Which I will do if you don't review by the time I get the next chapter up. Where are you that you're required to do a stint in the military? And you're right – life is hard, and that seems to be the point of my little ficlet. I accept all accusations of being evil, and say, "yep." Carlos is a bad one – Barillo was simply abusive. Carlos is almost attempting emotional rape. And Sands…Sands wasn't sure what would happen if he showed any concern over Tess, and it's not his way to be overly demonstrative with his emotions anyway.)


	19. Cross and DoubleCross

**Author's Note: this chapter is a little shorter than the last few, but I hope its just as satisfying. Or maddening, however you want to look at it.**

**Author's thanks at end.**

* * *

Sands would be the first to admit that their situation was steadily growing worse. He'd never been one to pussyfoot around polite social traditions that kept one from saying just how deep the shit was getting. So when the car flipped over the graded edge of the highway and started rolling downhill, his first thought was, _We're__ screwed,_ and his second was, _Glad she insisted on the seatbelt._

It seemed as if the nightmarish ride went on for hours, but it was only seconds later that they hit level ground, and still moving forward due to the speed they'd been driving at, ran head on into a gnarled tree.

_Or what passes for a tree around here,_ he thought dazedly, shaking his head. His neck twinged. _I hope that's not anything worse than whiplash._ He knew that anyone with common sense would sit still for a long time after such an accident, but Sands knew they didn't have time. Once the fate of their own men was determined, those cartel flunkies would be coming down to check on him and Tess.

Sands groaned as he moved his limbs. He felt like he'd been battered with a meat tenderizer, but he was otherwise uninjured except for a dull pain in his left arm. It was probably broken, but that was a miracle considering his track record. Releasing his safety belt, Sands crawled across the backseat, picking up weapons as he went. The door on his side of the car was too beat-up to actually open, and it was only by using considerable force that he was able to get the one on the right side of the car open.

Outside and free, Sands crouched down behind the car and listened. The night was too dark and the air too filled with dust for him to reliably see anything, but if men were coming down that slope, he'd hear them. When after several minutes he heard nothing more than a rolling rock or two that had surely been displaced by their precipitous fall, he risked a peek around the back of the car. There was no movement that he could detect, not tell-tale lights, and lights would have to be used to get down that hill without killing one's self.

_Safe for a little bit._ Certain that he wasn't in mortal danger, Sands inched over to Tessa's window. He might have been listening for the sounds of pursuit, and the lack of any might have been comforting, but the lack of those same sounds from the driver of the totaled vehicle worried him. Tess had been pretty badly beaten _before_ they got tumbled like wet laundry in a drier.

Her window was broken in. Sections of her face, which was tilted towards him, looked black in the scant moonlight. Sands didn't know if that was due to her hair or to blood, so he reached out a hand – keeping the other occupied with a handgun – and ran his fingers along her brow. Hair caught on his fingers and he was able to push a few strands out of her face; there were still large sections of black marring her skin. _She must have gotten lacerated by broken glass. Or possibly rocks._ He saw now that there was a large section of the windshield missing. "Com'on, niña. Wakey-wakey," he muttered as he lightly ran his fingers down her neck to just under her jaw. Her pulse was slow and steady, but her body was in a state of shock if the temperature of her skin was anything to go by.

Just as he was going to explore to find just how badly she was hurt, Sands heard a new rock-fall and a quiet curse. Apparently everything was well enough on the highway for Carlos' men to come down and make sure that nothing was alive down here.

_Well, it'd be a shame to disappoint them,_ Sands thought, sending Tess a mental warning to stay unconscious just a little bit longer as he took care of business. There was a small outcropping of rocks about twenty feet from the car. It was an ideal hiding place because anyone who wanted to reach the car would have to pass by him, and the way they could get shelter would be to get on the other side of the heap. It wouldn't be too difficult for Sands to pick off all the men before they could get out of range.

The men were all dressed in dark colors and were nearly indistinguishable from the landscape, but Sands didn't need to see them. If he'd learned nothing else during his months of blindness, it was that most people never thought about the sounds they made. Even if he'd been driven mad with pain, he could have taken these men out. Briefly he was disappointed in the lack of sport in all this – after all this hell, he would be more than happy to play with his victims a bit – but the glow of several flashlights made him resigned. _Just kill them, get the flashlights, check on Tess, see if your cell phone is in any condition to work. _Thos were his priorities at the moment.

The first two men dropped to the ground before their companions could even conceive that they were under fire. The third fell as he ran towards the car. The forth was smarter and simply dropped to the ground and started laying down fire. It would be an awkward position for Sands to fire at even if rock chips and dust weren't flying at his face. Sitting down with is back to the still slightly warm rock face, he emptied one of the handguns of its clip, then let the telltale -_Click­- _of an empty gun ring out. The hail of bullets stopped. When he heard the sound of footsteps inching towards his position, he grinned. _That's it, hombre. Come get the helpless gringo._

When Sands estimated that the man was only a few feet away, he sprang up and nailed the man right between the eyes before he could react. Another report though, soured his victory. Somehow a man had moved up behind Sands, and had fired. If the agent hadn't stood when he had, the bullet would probably be resting very close to his heart now.

_I'm going to get you, fucker._ On the heels of pain came a surge of adrenaline, and Sands turned and fired his own weapon before the other man could pull his trigger. The agent's shot hit the man in the throat and he dropped like a stone, his breath rattling for a few hideous moments before stopping entirely.

Ignoring the pain in his thigh as best he could, Sands crouched back down and waited. Ten minutes went by and he heard nothing more than the wind. That was all of them.

_All of them for now,_ he warned himself as he slowly moved back to the car. It would be foolhardy to assume that no more men would come looking for his runaway. Carlos had put too much energy into "training" her to allow her to ignobly slink off. _We need to get out of here first. If I can just . . . oh, shit._ His cell phone had been confiscated. Fuck. Well, he'd just have to search the dead men in hopes one of them had a phone. He could walk out of here, but Tess needed medical attention.

Scavenging a flashlight, Sands started searching the men one by one. He collected what weapons he could find, but kept his mind locked on his goal. As long as he thought about a phone, he didn't think about why it was so important to get Tess back to the States alive.

* * *

Pain . . .

Waves and waves of fiery pain. Everything from the waist up screamed. It locked her out of her own mind; if anyone had asked even her name in this moment, she wouldn't have been able to remember. The only reality she knew was the pain. What had happened to cause it didn't matter, how to make it stop wasn't important. It was enough of a task to force air down windpipe and into her lungs, and then force it back out. Her lungs felt oddly full, yet she couldn't catch her breath.

**_Hell . . ._ **The whisper ghosted across the surface of her mind. Was that where she was? Was she dead?

**_You know death._**

Yes, she supposed she did. Her mind cleared, and useless bits of memory came back to her. A blond man reciting a satiric poem: _"Whether on the gallows high/Or where blood flows the reddest,/The noblest place for man to die – / Is where he died the deadest."_ People on a small, shabby stage: _Hell is empty. All the devils are here."_ Words on a page: _"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee/Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;/For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow/Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill __me.__/From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be . . ."_

**_Are you dead, mon?_**

_No. Not dead. Dying?_

_**Could be.**_

_Oh . . . _The idea wasn't lacking in appeal. But then again, she couldn't remember what she might be missing by giving up.

_"Always know all your options."_ That rule had been pounded deep enough into her head that she heard it now. It was so very dark though. What if this was all there was?

**_Your eyes are closed, dimwit._**

_That was rude._

**_Your point? I don't care. Of course, if you'd just come play with me, maybe I'd be nicer. I'm so lonely._**

_That's an option, I suppose. But I must have more._ Before the voice could protest, Tess pried her eyelids open. They were so very heavy and prone to slipping shut, but she managed to catch glimpses of a landscape painted entirely in blacks and greys. Her nose picked up the faint scents of burned rubber as her mind latched on to this proof of the living world. The pain was still there, still invading her mind and making it sluggish, but it no longer consumed her. Wetting her lips, she inhaled through her mouth and choked as her lungs resisted the amount of air she sent them. Her ribs bucked against a hard surface as pain exploded in her chest.

The fireworks slowly faded, leaving her with a snatch of memory of how she'd gotten here. A car, disorientation, being thrown around. Blackness. There was a string attached to those images – running, danger, fear . . . but not alone. She'd had company.

_Sands . . ._ Had he died? The thought made what energy she had left leak out of her. She remembered now. She'd been trying to prevent that. If she'd failed, Tess didn't think she'd be able to stand it. _Sands? Where are you?_

**_If you don't actually _speak_, he's never going to hear you. If he's even alive that is. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd been thrown from the car. Or got his neck broken. Or brained by flying rocks. Or any of the thousands of other ways a person can die in an accident this bad._**

_I don't want him to be dead though._

_**Too bad, chica. That's the way life goes. Oh, heads up. I think someone is coming.**_ Tess squinted her eyes and tried to focus them. Everything was blurry and wavering, but she thought she saw a light coming towards her. **_The soothing light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train headed your way._**__

_You're very pessimistic._

_**Thank you. It's one of my better traits I think.**_ That was nonsense, and Tess returned her attention to what she was seeing.

The unidentifiable figure wavered as if injured, but it was definitely headed towards her. Tessa's mind pressed on her that it could be her companion. Licking her lips again, she managed to whisper/croak, "San . . ."

Talking hurt too much to continue, but it did managed to attract the attention she wanted. The light came towards her faster and she finally had to close her eyes because it blinded her. "You called, chica?" A hand settled under her jaw, and it was the gentlest touch she'd felt in a long time.

She expelled a puff of breath that sounded like, "yeah." Anything more than that was too difficult. "Alon–" Her throat was so _dry_!

"Here." The mouth of a bottle touched her lips. "I raided our friends' cars. It's not water, but it should help the pain."

Tess grimaced as the bitter burn of alcohol rolled down her throat. Her mouth wasn't so dry anymore, but there were rules. She remembered that much. "Not supposed to."

"We'll let it slide this one time." Sands settled one of his two flashlights between two rocks so it illuminated both their faces. With the light, he saw that there was a long gash along her forehead. That's where the blood had come from. It mustn't have been too deep though, because the flow of blood had already stopped. "How you feeling?"

"Sands?"

"Yeah. Do you remember what happened?"

Her head twitched in a parody of a nod. "Too nice."

"I'm being too nice?" Again the head-twitch. "We'll just tell people that I hit my head. Now, where does it hurt?"

"Every . . . where."

"Are you sure? Have you tried to move anything?" She closed her eyes. "I'll take that as a no. Well, no time like the present. Can you wiggle your toes?"

That was a good question. Until this point, Tess had even forgotten that she had toes. It was just too mundane a thought. With her eyes still closed, Tess tried to flex her toes. Nothing happened. She realized that she couldn't even feel anything below her waist.

"I-I can't . . . feel . . . my legs." Why was she so breathless? Tess didn't think that was good. Maybe it had something to do with the pain in her chest.

"You're sure?"

What kind of question was that? Of course she was sure. Tessa's eyes popped open to fix him with a incredulous gaze. _But when Sands am I supposed to look at?_ "There's two of you," she breathed.

_Aw, shit._ Sands didn't let his thoughts show on his face. No point in needlessly worrying her, and Tess _would_ worry if he started acting like a normal, caring human being. "How many heads am I holding up?" he drawled instead.

"Two. I said . . ." Sands shook her head and she didn't bother finishing her comment.

"Keep your eyes open for a minute, niña. And don't complain about how bright the light is. I already know that." Raising his other flashlight, Sands gently pulled Tessa's eyelids back when she instinctively tried to protect them. Her left pupil didn't respond to the light.

"Concussion?" she croaked, stifling the urge to cough. That would definitely hurt too much.

"Yeah. No taking a nap until we get out of here, comprendés?" Quickly he flashed the light around, noting that her seat had somehow moved forward, as had the steering column. She was pinned between them.

"Get out?" Her voice distracted him.

"Well, I gotta find a phone first. None of friends seemed to have one."

"I did . . . somewhere in . . . back."

"You brought a cell phone?" he asked, wanting to make sure he understood. The chance that it was _still_ in the backseat was small, but it was a chance nonetheless.

"Sí."

"Alright. Don't go anywhere. I'll check." He saw her faint smile from the corner of her eye as he turned away. It was no more than a lightening of her pained countenance, but it was at least something. "How's your head? It getting noisy in there?" He asked the question simply to make sure she was staying awake.

"A little." She swallowed, frowning as she tasted something metallic at the back of her throat. However, since it didn't seem life-threatening, she didn't allow herself to become concerned. "Too much . . . excitement."

"That's understandable." There was nothing in the backseat besides pebbled safety glass. Just to be on the safe side, he checked both wells in the front. When he finally – and miraculously – found the phone, it was between Tessa's feet.

Coming back around to her door, he eased it open and laid a hand on her shoulder. "The phone's between your legs, niña, and I –"

"Never heard that . . . one before." Her lips quirked up.

"Very funny. The phone is on the floor between your feet. My arm was hurt in the crash, so I'm going to have to move your seat back, alright? I want you to just rest where you are until I help you back against the chair."

"Okay."

While Sands fumbled under the chair for the release that would allow him to slide it backwards, Tess sat still and waited. Her shortness of breath worried her, but she didn't know why exactly. It had something to do with the pain in her ribs, but the reason to justify that reason was elusive. _I need to remember. It's important. Do you know?_

_**No. Why would I? I only paid attention to the grisly parts of your classes.**_

****_Oh . . . well it would have been nice – _

Whatever would have been nice was lost in a hoarse scream as a spear of pain arrowed straight through Tessa's torso.

"Fuck!" Sands stopped what he was doing and picked up his light again and shone it on Tessa's face. Her eyes were wide open and filled with pain; tears traced skin-colored paths down her bloody cheek, skin that was bone-white underneath the natural duskiness of her skin. "Where does it hurt?"

Tess couldn't answer. All she could do was gasp for breath and listen to the way the air rasped in her throat. She didn't even see Sands through the pain-red haze that covered her vision. Unable to stop herself, one of her hands fluttered to the point below her breasts that felt so icy-hot. Her fingertips touched wire.

**_Impaled. There's a thing I never thought I'd feel._** The voice was so cool and collected that Tess doubted it felt anything she did.

"Sa-an-nds . . ." The weak gasp was all she could manage when she wanted to beg him to do something to make this all go away.

"Don't talk, necia. I see it." Now he saw what the resistance had been, and for the first time in many years, he was sick to his stomach. Sometime during the crash, one of the springs in the back of Tessa's seat had sprung, and sprung right through Tessa's body. He hadn't noticed the blood against her navy blue shirt before, and now he couldn't imagine how he'd missed it. There was a great, big, bloody patch just to one side of her spine. That was probably why she couldn't feel her legs.

"Sa-ands . . ."

"Didn't I just tell you not to talk?" He glanced up at her face and tried to appear calm. "Just relax. I'm going to get that cell phone, and then I'm going to call my men. They've got a private LifeFlight chopper on reserve. We're going to get you out. Do you hear what I'm saying?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Then just sit still and wait. Once someone manages to actually wrangle a promise out of me, I usually keep it. Besides, I owe the kid."

"Marcos . . ." The pain was slowly starting to die away.

"Yeah, that kid. Now be quiet and let me do my job."

* * *

It took some doing, but Sands finally managed to get the phone. Telling Tess he would be right back, he went a few yards away to make his call. He didn't want her to overhear as he told Agent Maddox just exactly what was wrong and what he suspected was going to happen if people didn't bust their asses to get down here. All agents had to undergo an intense first aid class as part of their field training, so Sands could guess just how long Tess was going to be able to stand the blood loss, possible internal injuries, and the rapidly cooling night.

"Remember the wire cutters," was the last thing he said before turning the phone off and returning to the car. He watched as Tess opened her eyes at his approach, glad to see that she was so far able to keep herself awake.

"It's kind of you . . . to visit me in my . . . in my loneliness . . ." she breathed, closing her eyes again.

For some reason that particular quote irritated him. It sounded too much like she was starting to give up.

"Don't talk like that, Barillo." If he had to annoy her to keep her fighting, he would.

_Barillo?_ After all she'd done against her family, after all she'd done at his request and out of her confusion about what their relationship entailed; after betrayal, and risking her neck, and allowing herself to be in a situation where _this_ could happen, he called her that? She wasn't Barillo. She refused to be. But if that was all he saw, then so be it. Her pride, however, kept her from showing him how much that'd hurt though. "Okay, how about, 'Few people understand the psychology of dealing . . . of dealing . . ." Oh god, she couldn't catch her breath.

Sands saw her agitation and finished the quote for her, knowing that getting it in the air was even more important to her than showing him up. Tess liked to finish what she started. "'Of dealing with a highway traffic cop. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop-heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow.'" He sighed, pretending to think it over. "I suppose that's better."

"Sands?"

"What?" He was sitting on the ground now, leaning against the chassis and listening for traffic. The threat of another appearance by Tessa's family wasn't one he'd forgotten.

"Scared."

"Don't be. I made sure I lit a fire under their butts. Someone will be here in thirty minutes at the most. You going to hold out that long, niña?"

"Trying. Hard to . . . breathe."

"Then stop breathing and conserve oxygen." There it was. The sound he'd been dreading. The sound of a car engine. "Hush. I'm going to go do some reconnaissance."

"Don't leave . . ." _I__ don't want to die alone. I'm so scared. Don't leave me._

_**You're not alone, Teresa Adame. You never are.**_

****_I don't want to be left alone with you._

_**I don't think you're in any state to protest.**_

That much was true at least, however, she still didn't want to be alone. "Sands . . ." He covered her mouth with his hand.

"That car might belong to your cousin, chiquita. I have to go, but I'm not going far. Certainly not out of rifle range. I'll be close enough to hear everything, but I have to be far enough away to fight, or we're both fucked for sure. Just stay here and be a good. If you're still breathing when I get back, I'll even apologize for being an ass, and that's something I've never done before. I don't guarantee to mean it, but I'll make the effort. Savvy?"

She twitched her head and closed her eyes, not wanting to watch him leave her. Before she heard him leave though, she felt him press something into her hand. It felt like a gun; certainly the way he took the time to wrap her fingers around it hinted at that. Was it meant for defense or offense? And did he really think she'd be able to shoot anyone right now? Tess didn't get the chance to ask her questions though.

**_I just want to point out that he's getting himself to safety while leaving you exposed._**

****_Did you think I hadn't noticed? It's his nature. It's yours as well. I don't see why you're complaining so much._

_**Don't you hate him for it though?**_

****_No more than I hate you. You're both irritants that I have to live with._

_**Yeah, but I'll be around for longer than he will.**_

****_Perhaps._ And perhaps things really would be better that way. Sands was just too . . . unbalancing. Just because he understood her better than anyone else, didn't mean he wasn't a danger. _Perhaps._

* * *

Sands returned to his outcropping of rock, and watched. He'd hidden the body of the man that had snuck up behind him so it wouldn't draw any unwanted attention towards him, and he felt fairly confident that this would be just as easy to take care of as the other men had. After all, he'd only heard one car. At most there would be four men. A bit more caution would be required though, since he hadn't wanted to try to close the door on Tess again, afraid of jostling her. He was going to have to time his first shot so that Tess was at the least risk. In her condition, he couldn't even be sure that she wasn't swimming in and out of consciousness.

_This is that last time I come to __Mexico_ he thought, moving a rock or two to make a better cradle for the rifle's muzzle. _I just can't get a break around here._

Sands waited. Sweat broke out on his forehead and along his spine despite the cool breeze. Whoever had come by was certainly taking their time. It was only when he was starting to get stiff that he heard the engine start again and go back the way it'd come.

_Oh no. That was just a little too convenient. A run-of-the-mill citizen would have kept driving, and cartel would have come to investigate._ Thinking things over, Sands decided that he'd follow the sound of the engine for a little while. It wasn't beyond them to backtrack and then travel by foot until they found the crash site. _And I'd much rather find them than have them find me._

With that thought in the forefront of his mind, Sands went hunting. Unfortunately he was so intent on just _stopping_ all this, that he moved outside the range where he could easily hear what was happening by the car.

* * *

Carlos had made his men drop him off where the two cars belonging to the cartel were parked. He'd taken two men with him to go north down the highway a few hundred yards before looping back to meet him, and then sent a still yawning Neva and her partner back south to travel north from there. If his men were still alive, they'd be waiting near the sight of what appeared to be an accident, and if they weren't, then he was armed and had back-up coming. One way or another, this headache was going to be dealt with tonight.

Traveling slowly and using the scant light from the just rising moon to make his way out, he slowly climbed down the hill, taking note of the apparently abandoned hulk a few hundred feet away. His men had done an excellent job of running Tess off the road; he only hoped that someone was left alive for him to take his growing anger out on.

Halfway down the slope, he saw the first body. Soon after that, his eyes detected a second, third, and fourth dark splotch of what had once been humanity. Someone had gunned his men down. Nervous, Carlos drew his own weapon and crouched down. If there was anyone around still, he was going to take them by surprise.

There was nothing moving on the plateau though, or at least, nothing alive. There was enough of a breeze to set the low-growing desert scrub to waving, but he didn't see anything else. That was no reason to be reckless though. Despite the dust and dirt he was getting on his clothes, Carlos kept low to the ground.

"I don't ca-are . . . anymore . . ."

Carlos froze when he heard the rough human voice. It was quiet and weak, and had definitely come from the car. Hope burst into bloom inside his chest. If the traitorous bitch was only still alive, he'd donate a few hundred thousand dollars to the nearest archdiocese.

"You think that . . . matters t-to me?" This voice was even rougher than the last, and Carlos mentally doubled the figure if only that was the CIA agent. Having both of them there would be too good to be true. First he'd kill that bastard that had stolen Teresa from him, and then he'd kill her. It was nothing more than what she deserved, and long overdue. _Barillo should have done it when he had the chance._

"S-Sands? That . . . you?"

God, just hearing her say his name was enough to make Carlos' finger tighten on the trigger, but he forced himself to calm down. Killing her would be pointless if he didn't first make his point.

"I d-didn't think . . . you were coming . . . coming back." The cold was getting to her. It was an effort of Herculean proportions to keep from shivering.

"I'm not Sands, Teresa, but I'd be more than happy to keep you company while you wait."

_No! Not Carlos! Sands, where are you! You'd said you'd be close!_

_**Alone, alone. So alone. Teresa is always alone. Alone in life, lonelier in death. I think that's what you should have on your tombstone.**_

"No . . ." she moaned. "Stop. Please . . . stop talking."

"I haven't said anything, Teresa." Carlos stepped close enough to see her in detail, and grimaced: she looked like a corpse. Pale skin, red-rimmed eyes . . . even her lips were starting to turn blue.

"Not . . . not you." Her lungs were starting to feel _full_. That wasn't a good sign. "Not talking . . . to you."

_Enough nonsense._ Carlos cocked his weapon, and raised it to point at Tessa's head. "If your lover is hiding, I suggest you make him come out, querida."

"No . . . no, he's not . . . here. Gone . . . gone away. Left me."

"He'll come back."

She seemed to think this over. "I think he goes . . . towards death, and is drawn . . . towards it. And so are . . . we all."

Obviously the crash had scrambled her wits, because she was not making sense. "And just what does that mean, Teresa?"

Her face contorted, and she coughed painfully a few times, then looked up at him. At the look of complete _blankness_ in her eyes, he took a step back. Something was very wrong with her.

"Ahh . . . he begins . . . to understand." Her voice was even rougher, if that was possible. "Thinking to get at once all . . . all the gold the goose . . . could give, he . . . killed it and opened it . . . only to find – nothing." Her face grew thoughtful. "Well . . . nothing but madness in . . . in this case." A slow grin spread across her face even as her eyes remained blank.

Revolted, Carlos took a step back, but the grin only grew. "Your fault . . . _dear_ cousin. You pushed . . . too much. Pushed her right . . . over the edge." Again Tessa's face contorted, this time moving into a more lax mask. "No, I'm still here . . . damn you."

"Mi, Christo," he whispered, crossing himself as he took another step back. "Tu es loco."

_Yes._ Yes she was. And so tired of having to hide it. The mask was getting to heavy, the voices and whispers too loud. "_But the insane . . . are always mere guests on . . . earth, eternal strangers . . . carrying around broken Decalogues . . . that they cannot read."_

"No wonder he left you," Carlos breathed. "You're not worth wasting a life on." Just then, a commotion a few hundred yard away distracted him. There was yelling, and gunfire. Before he could recover, Tess pulled the trigger of the gun in her lap. It flew in a straight path and slammed into Carlos' gut. His eyes widened in shock, and he stared at her.

"You shouldn't have st-stood so . . . close." As his knees buckled, she fired again. This time her bullet slammed into his chest. She watched as he fell, her eyes pitiless. _He shouldn't have said what he did. I wouldn't have fired otherwise._

_**I would have.**_

_I'm not you. I don't want to be you._

_**Doesn't matter. At least he's not a threat. If you die now, you won't die a failure. That's something I suppose.**_

_Yes. I suppose._ Tess coughed again, moaning at the pain of lungs trying for force something other than air out her throat. _I suppose its enough._

* * *

The first gunshot that'd slammed into the dirt at Sands' feet had been a total surprise. The second – the one that had felled the man who'd just tried to take him out – had surprised Sands even more. By the time he saw who had just helped him out, he was ready to have a heart attack. But later, when he wasn't in danger of dying.

"Stay where you are!" he yelled, raising his gun and pointing it at the feminine figure.

"Calm down, agente Sands. I just took out one of my own men. Do you really think that you're next?" Neva just looked at him and didn't make a single move that indicated that she was going to surrender.

"It seems to me that listening to that kind of talk once got my _eye_ ripped out of my _skull_, so excuse me if I don't believe you."

"Well, we have to solve this impasse somehow, because last I saw, my brother was headed in the direction of your _amante_. And he was not feeling charitable." Almost before the words were out of her mouth, there were two gunshots from the direction of the car.

"Fuck," Sands hissed, feeling his heart kick into overdrive. "In front of me, and you'd best move quickly." Once Neva was in front of him, they both broke into a jog, Sands with his gun in the small of her back to remind her to behave herself.

When they were a stone's throw from the car, he made her stop. "Call to him," he hissed, pressing the barrel of his weapon into her back with painful force.

"Carlos! Did you find her?" There was no answer.

"Again," Sands prompted.

"Carlos?"

"He found her," Tess replied for her dead cousin before another bout of coughing gripped her.

"Tessa?" Sands prompted Neva forward until he was able to see her. _Fuck, she's not looking good._ "One wrong move and I shoot you," Sands hissed to his companion before stripping her jacket from her and arranging it around Tessa's shoulders.

"What did I tell you about talking?" he chided, pulling her hand from her mouth. As he'd suspected, there were flecks of blood on it. "You're aggravating your lungs for nothing."

"You left . . . he knew."

"Knew what?" If Tess wanted to talk, Sands knew that he wasn't going to be able to stop her. The best he'd be able to do would be to keep it short.

"Everything." She looked around Sands and saw Neva. "What –" More coughs cut her off.

"Your cousin?" Tess nodded. "She's professing to be a turncoat." When he saw that her curiosity wasn't abated, he turned to the tall Hispanic woman. "Care to explain now that we can both hear you?"

"Carlos is –" Her throat closed as she looked at his body. "Carlos _was_ becoming obsessed." Obsessed or not, he was her brother. While this had been inevitable, she hadn't wanted it to happen. At least she hadn't had to pull the trigger though. "He's a danger. I was only ever in this for him, and I don't care to run a drug empire on my own. I planned on taking my share of what money he had tonight, then hopping a plane for South America."

"And now?" Sands asked. Her story sounded remarkably like what he would have done in her place.

"Now the plan hasn't changed. I'm just going to withdraw more money and disappear. When I don't show up in a year, the money will revert back to off-shore family accounts, and Teresa and I will be the only ones that can access it. If she's alive to do so."

Tess made a face. "I will be," she breathed.

This moment of calm was interrupted by the sound of helicopter blades, and not a moment too soon. As Sands turned on a flashlight to signal their position, Neva turned to leave. "You don't have to worry about the other men," she said over her shoulder. "They were both very fond of hitting the bottle. I'm afraid it led them to a bad end."

Sands couldn't care less. Tess was starting to mutter things as she coughed convulsively. She needed to get to a hospital soon. Sooner perhaps than they could get her there.

* * *

**Quotes:** Ambrose Pierce, The Devil's Dictionary; Shakespeare, The Tempest; John Donne, Holy Sonnet 10; Cool Runnings; Metallica; Wizard of Oz; Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas; Ursula Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea; Aesop; F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Whew.

**Author Thanks:** for all your wonderful compliments, support, and at times, threats, I wish to thank . . . **Beringae** (wow! It's great to hear from you again. If I at least made you doubt what I could and couldn't allow Tess to do, then I accept your compliments. I think everyone knew that I wouldn't _really_ let her kill him, but all I wanted was to plant that seed of doubt. Yes, I'm planning to write a From Hell fic, and while the basic concept might be a bit cliché – just like the one behind this series was – I think I can develop a decent story. The parts I've tested on some of my friends have been well received. I certainly hope that nothing I do on that fic, or in FS will be anything less than what you expect from me.); **Merrie** (Calm and resigned, eh? That sounds just a little bit scary, considering who I'm talking to. ); **Kontara** (It's alright. I don't mind be hated. It was what I was aiming for after all. I hope this chapter kinda soothed things over.); **normal human being** (There are times and places to be cruel and sadistic, but I'm a firm believer that it's not at the absolute end of a story. Unhinged reviews are just plain fun to read. Cliffies will go on for at least as long as the story, if not longer. You know I appreciate the reviews, right? So ditto earlier ones. ); **Shannon** (stupid It should know that eating reviews is a _bad_ thing. sigh Anyway, I'm always happy to toy with anyone's emotions. That should be apparent from the situations I drop my characters into. I am sorry for making you cry though. Kinda. It's actually a pretty big compliment when I think about it though, so perhaps I'm not. evil grin); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl** (I swear, you've got the longest name out of any of my reviewers. :P Here's your more, and yes, there will be more on the way as soon as I get to it. I'm ready to be done with this fic and move on to a new one.); **quick29** (I hope you're satisfied. No more Carlos. I hope his death wasn't too anticlimactic.); **C.J. Davis** (I'm not sure Sands will ever tell her that he was at the hacienda to get her out. That just doesn't seem like the kinda thing he'd let spill unless he was going to hold it over her head. There will be no professions of the sort you mean, or at least that I think you mean. Sands is a wily guy, and Tess unconventionally sane, so I'm sure they'll be able to come to some sort of understanding that is perfectly and uniquely them. Eventually.); **Raven** (cool. I've got a reader in Israel. grins For some reason that always impresses me more than readers in the states. Perhaps because I expect readers over here to know English and read it. I don't necessarily expect that of anyone else because that seems a bit arrogant. shrugs But then again, I know absolutely nothing about non-English speaking countries and how prevalent English is. Anyway, I'm glad you do have to go into the army. You're actually the one that inspired Neva's behavior in this chapter. Just know that. ;D Tess isn't feeling any more than pain at the moment, so his concern isn't really getting through to her as something odd.); **Dreamgirl21147** (No. I like cliffies, and I shall always keep them around. I'm glad you've got that seatbelt, but there's only a few more bumps along the road before we reach the station.)


	20. Broken Endings

**Author's Note: This, I'm sorry to say, is the last chapter. I'll save the big emotional good-bye for the prologue which I'll post in a few days. For now, just enjoy.**

**WARNING: there is R-rated smut at the end. If you do not wish to read that sort of thing, you'll know where to stop. But pick up again at the end.**

**Author's thanks at end.**

* * *

"Dark . . . darkness devours every sh-shining . . . day –"

"Stop talking, custida." God, she was stubborn. Sands could see that every word was agony, but she wouldn't shut her trap. "Just wait. I can see the helicopter now."

"Darkness demands . . . and . . . and will always have its way." He didn't understand at all. She had to say it. Had to. It was her eulogy. "Darkness listens, w-watches . . . waits,/Darkness claims . . . the day and celebrates,/Sometimes i-in . . . silence darkness comes,/Somet-times with . . . with a gleeful banging of drums." Tess coughed, moaning in pain as liquid was forced up her throat. "S-Sands . . ." Blood loss was stealing her vision from her. With her left hand, she groped for evidence that she wasn't dying alone.

"I'm here." Without removing his eyes from the aircraft as it touched down, he took her hand and held it tightly, an automatic reaction to its chill. "Just relax."

* * *

It had been the twenty-four hours from hell. The moment the paramedics had arrived and started communicating in their special brand of chaotic staccato, Tessa's fragile peace of mind had been overwhelmed and she had started to freak out. At first the men hadn't been sure what to do, but as her distress caused her to start coughing up blood, they jumped into action. When their proximity to her caused her to struggle in a desperate effort to get away, one of the men asked Sands to climb up on the hood and try to keep her calm while they freed her from the wreck.

Calming Tess was easier said than done though. Any attempt to engage her in conversation left Sands' mind spinning. Words tumbled out of her mouth without rhyme or reason, yet they made sense. Or they would have made sense of everything he defined as reality had been skewed, shaken, and totally reorganized. If her everyday world was truly anything like what she described in the rising and falling tones of runaway sanity, then it was a miracle she was ever coherent.

He had watched her pass out from the pain of having the wire tampered with. _I should feel guilty,_ he thought as he watched her head slump forward and her body still. _But I don't. I just feel relieved._

The paramedics cropped the wire as close as they could to her spine, then eased her out of the car and onto a brace board. Sands had dutifully reported that she couldn't feel her feet, and the men were scrupulously cautious. She was strapped down, and a collar was put around her neck to keep her head still. It wasn't until the helicopter had taken off and been in the air for a few minutes that she woke up. Dazed and disoriented, she'd renewed her struggles to free herself, weeping and cursing and pleading to people dead and alive to just let her go. Against their better judgment, one of the men was about to give her a mild sedative when her eyes opened so wide they bulged and her mouth dropped open as she gasped for breath.

Sands later learned that the wire that'd pierced her body had nicked her right lung. As long as she'd stayed immobile and halfway calm, the tear had stayed small. Her last struggle however had stretched her lung too far and the tear had widened. When it did, blood rushed in to fill the void, and her lung had collapsed.

At the hospital, Sands had been taken to the emergency waiting room where he was plied with coffee and forms. Before leaving the States, Tess had handed over several copies of her medical records – in case of an emergency – and Sands had committed the important details to memory, so the forms weren't difficult for him to fill out. The paperwork had been easy compared to the waiting. Even through the emergency doors, he could hear people rushing around and yelling orders.

It wasn't until a half an hour later that a doctor with several streaks of blood on her neck came out to talk to him. She reported the full list of injuries to him – two cracked ribs, broken ankle, sprained wrist, nearly continuous bumps and bruises, moderate concussion. In a monotone she rattled off the complications surgeons would face while trying to remove the spring – severe blood loss, punctured lung, the fact that the wire was pressing against Tessa's spinal cord, mild dehydration. In all, the doctor wasn't optimistic about her patient's chance of survival.

Sands spent the night and a good part of the morning asleep on a couch in the surgical waiting room. It was his own people that finally arrived and woke him, reporting that the Merída's had attacked the Velasquez hacienda an hour before dawn. The only thing that remained of the Barillo cartel was the name and damage that was still being repaired at the Governor's mansion in Culíacan. The Mexican government had followed through on their end of the deal and had taken out the Merída base and arrested most of that cartel's leaders. A few had escaped, but they had AFN on their tails and would most likely be brought in before they could skip the country.

Barnaby, Weyhauser, and Newman had convinced Sands to leave his couch and go to the cafeteria for a bite to eat. He joined them out of common sense but didn't thank them for it. He listened to their reports with one ear, nodded at the rights places, and doled out icy glares to anyone who dared ask more than once about how their civilian agent was doing.

When his people left, Sands returned to the waiting room. Five minutes into his next nap, an exhausted looking surgeon came out and read Tessa's name off a chart. Sands stood and went to conference with the man. Tess had been out of surgery for nearly an hour and was in ICU. Her vitals were weak, but the man though she would pull through. His biggest concern was if they'd missed any damage to her spinal cord, and they'd be watching her closely. She was under sedation at the moment and would remain so until her nervous system had recovered enough to handle anti-psychotics. No, she was not receiving visitors at the time, and wouldn't be for at least 72 hours. The best thing Sands could do would be to go home and get some rest.

The agent's escape wasn't as clean as that, however. The surgeon had clapped him on the arm in grave encouragement, making Sands hiss as he was reminded of his broken arm. That led him back down to the emergency room where a nurse had discovered that the blood on his pants was not Tessa's but his own. He'd felt a dull stab of surprise at that, having totally forgotten that he'd been clipped by enemy gunfire. It was getting to be such a common occurrence that he was growing used to the feeling, or so it seemed.

Patched up and bearing a prescription for pain medication that he'd never fill out, Sands met the small delegation of his team – most were in Cuidad – at the hotel they'd taken rooms in. After stripping out of his dirty clothes, he flopped onto the bed and went back to sleep. His dreams were troubled, but that was only to be expected.

* * *

_I'm a sap._ That was all Sands could think as he walked down the hospital corridor. The small bundle of flowers in his hand seemed cheap and trite. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't be caught dead giving a woman flowers, but the nurses said that Tess was withdrawn and given to bouts of schizophrenic catatonia. She'd improved to the point where they could safely give her small doses of anti-psychotics, but they were only enough to suppress hallucinations, not enough to regulate her behavior. They said that she spent her time staring at blank walls and muttering the same thing to herself seven times in a row before moving to the next. If she had something to look at, they said, then perhaps she'd focus on that and stop her repetitive behavior. Sands thought that was a load of bullshit, but here he was with flowers anyway.

Feeling more apprehension than he wanted to, he stopped in front of the door to Tessa's room and looked in. Due to her condition, they'd given her a single room, afraid that other patients might agitate her. The room, however, was meant for two people; laying in a railed bed on the far side of the room, Tess looked small and alone. It was as if those two of the traits that he'd long associated with her had been inflated so that they eclipsed all others. Even with a nurse there adjusting tubes and machines she looked isolated. If it were him in that room, he'd be pissed enough to ignore everyone too.

_Well, this can't be any worse than anything else that's happened recently._ With that encouraging thought he stepped into the room.

Agent, the nurse greeted him. Teresa is doing much better today. She even ate some chicken broth this morning.

How nice, he muttered, not particularly caring what she'd had for breakfast. Is she awake?

Her eyes are open. I'm not sure how aware she is of what's going on around her. But what are you going to do? The woman shrugged. Dr. Herera should be coming by in less than an hour if you'd like to talk to him.

Thank you. Sands wished the woman would just go away.

If you like, I can take those and put them in some water. The woman gestured to the bouquet.

Umm . . . yes, please. With a sense of relief that he wouldn't be caught with them, Sands handed the flowers over and watched the nurse leave.

Left alone in the room with Tess, Sands walked over to the bed and took a seat in a chair. He didn't bother to say anything since he'd walked straight across Tessa's line of sight to reach the chair. She knew he was here. If she wanted to talk, that was her business.

"You're pretending," she whispered after a few minutes. Even in her own ears her voice was rough from having tubes stuck down it. Tess knew she should probably try to stay quiet, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"How am I pretending?"

"Being here. It's a lie." Sands must have decided that her mouth was dry because he slipped an arm around her shoulders and held her up as he let her take a drink of water. "That was a lie," she whispered as he lowered her.

"How is it a lie?" Of all the conversations they could have, this wasn't one he wanted. He didn't know what he _did_ want to talk about, but this display of paranoia wasn't it.

"Normality. Normality is a lie."

"Niña, nothing is ever normal between us. You should know that by now."

"I know. You know. I know that you know. Knowing has nothing to do with acceptance. If we aren't normal, why are you here? Being here is normal. We're not normal."

"Yes, we've established that part. Just why are you objecting to my presence?"

"Appearances are deceiving. You're appearing. You're appearing because it's expected by the staff. They're deceived. I'm not."

"I don't give a rat's ass about what other people think. You know that, niña."

"Then why are you here?"

"I think you already know that answer to that, Teresa."

His answer upset her. Her hands picked uselessly and restlessly at the blankets as she weakly shook her head. "No. No. Summer fling, don't mean a thing."

"I think that was meant to be sung, Sandy," Sands drawled, wishing he could light up.

"No. You make a lousy Danny Zuko. No singing." Tess fell silent and turned her face away from him.

The only thing that kept Sands from leaving then and there was his own perverse need to push, and prod, and control the conversation. They'd stop talking when he decided they were done. Folding his hands behind his head, he said, "He waited for the mask to drop, but at the same time he did not question her right to wear it." Tessa's head turned so fast that he was surprised she didn't get whiplash.

"What?" What was he doing? Why was he talking like that? "Don't do that."

"Don't what? Return your quotes? Why does it bother you so much if you're so fond of them? Are you afraid that someone might come to understand your own special language and force to say what you really mean? Or is it just that I'm the one doing it, and we share a history that you can't force yourself to accept or adapt to?"

"Stop it," she whispered, looking trapped.

"Let me tell you something, niña. The only reason my answer was no was because you won't allow _anyone_ to say yes. At least no one who you perceive as a threat."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She tried to evade his questioning and his eyes, but he was relentless.

"I think you do. Tell me, if Carlos had asked _you_ that question, what would you answer have been? Why am I such a threat to you?"

"Don't!" she yelled, her voice cracking.

"Why not?" His question came across as calm and reasonable even if the purpose behind it was anything but.

"Nay, tempt me not to love again:/There was a time when love was sweet;/Dear Nea! had I known thee then,/Our souls had not been slow to meet!/But oh! this weary heart hath run/So many a time the rounds of pain,/Not even for thee, thou lovely one!/Would I endure such pangs again." _Stop. Stop making me admit things!_

"You know that I was never trying to hurt you, Tessa."

A brittle laugh left her mouth. "Lies. Still lies. Maybe not then, but first. That first night. You did, you did want to hurt. Hurt and humiliate and retaliate."

"And things can't change?"

"If you knew me you'd know the answer to that." No things didn't change, _couldn't_ change. Change was the enemy. He was change. He was the enemy. "If you knew you, you'd know the answer to that."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"The land of my fathers. My fathers can have it." Her eyes moved around the room restlessly as if seeking escape. "I never wanted to be his daughter, and you'll never be able to forget. Ergo, lack of change. Ergo, everything you're trying to convince me of is a lie." If only her head wasn't so fuzzy and the voice quieted. She needed advice.

Well, she had a point there. It was a little difficult to forget something like that, but it wasn't as if necessarily _blamed_ her . . . anymore. Unfortunately, she wasn't rational enough to argue with right now. She was doped up on painkillers and suppressants. At least he'd initiated the conversation, and since it was unlikely that she'd be leaving Mexico at the same time he was, that was all that was going to happen. If she wanted to resume it at some later date, he'd leave that up to her. He certainly wasn't going to degrade himself by chasing after her.

"I'm leaving in a few days," he said, standing up. When the doctors decide you're ready to be released, they'll contact me and I'll make sure you get back to New York."

She didn't answer. Why should she when he was leaving her?

"Alright," he drawled. "I'll see you around."

* * *

Tess spent two weeks in the hospital after Sands left, and they were the most miserable weeks in her life. By the time she was released, she felt that if one more person asked, "How are we feeling today?" she'd slip into a homicidal rage. There were two things she'd been glad of though: one, that while in the hospital, she never once had the voice crowd in on her, and two, that Sands wasn't around to disconcert her.

The lack of company however left her with too much time to think, and Sands was mostly what she thought about. He was a difficult man, and not for the reasons most would think. She didn't mind his attitude, or behavior, or habits. What she minded so much was that he refused to bow to anyone, and refused to soften his presences. With everyone else in her life, she had some measure of control over them, either by benefit of her age like with the kids, or her condition like with Cora, or by mutual agreement like the ones she had with her few friends. Everyone else avoided her because she was unfriendly and reserved. But Sands seemed to take pleasure in baiting her just to the edge of her control and no farther. It was exhausting to forever be unsure and uncertain about where they stood with each other, to always have the rules change. She _needed_ rules. Her life was governed by them. Even something as simple as writing with a pen had rules (if the where a logo, it had to be directed away from her) that she couldn't bring herself to break. Sands seemed to enjoy forcing her to look at things through the eyes of sanity instead of through her own. Why couldn't he just understand that it was easier for her to govern her life by her own perceptions instead of by everyone else's? If he could just understand that. . . .

Whenever her mind turned to what was possible if he only understood her, Tess purposely found something to distract her. What was possible didn't matter. What _was_ mattered. The status quo mattered. Tradition and routine mattered. Wishes were not horses, beggars didn't ride, and Sands wasn't going to change. And that was the end of the matter.

Despite what she'd convinced herself though, it was a relief to find all the arrangements for her transportation and lodging taken care of when she left the hospital. Sands – or more likely her doctors – had arranged things so that her trip home would be taken in easy stages over several days. On the first day, she'd traveled from Cuidad Victoria to Cuidad Juarez. She'd spent the night there and then crossed the border into El Paso where she'd boarded a flight to Nashville. After spending the night there, she'd spent her last day traveling from Nashville to Pittsburg, and from Pittsburg to Syracuse. A hotel room had been reserved for her in Syracuse, but by that time she only wanted to get _home_.

With a feeling resembling that of a child who was breaking a rule and was afraid of being caught, Tess got in a cab and told him to drive to Fairmont. It was an hour's ride, but she was more than willing to pay the man whatever he wanted if only it meant sleeping in her own bed that night.

It was around six in the evening by the time the cab pulled up to Tessa's driveway. For a long minute she simply sat in the backseat and looked out the window. Spring wasn't as advanced this far north as it had been in Guadalupe, but the trees were green and snowdrops were blooming in front of the house. She'd been gone for nearly five months, but everything was . . . it was just as she'd imagined it'd be.

"You getting' out, lady?"

"Yes. Yes." Tess paid the man and grabbed her overnight bag. The rest of her things had either been shipped back or left in Mexico.

The evening air was temperate, the sun just beginning to set. Tess slowly walked up the driveway and front path. The porch was strewn with rollerblades and dolls. The mess would have to go, but she wasn't going to worry about it now.

It took just as much effort as she remembered to open the heavy front door. Automatically she fell into her old routine, taking off her shoes and placing them next to the wicker basket that held pairs and pairs of smaller shoes. Her bag she set down by the small table that held lunches in the morning and mail at night. From the dining room she could hear childish voices calling to each other as the clank of dishes indicated that the table was being set.

"Now remember," she heard Cora say. "Don't mob your aunt when she comes home. Remember that she may still be sore, and is probably tired from her long trip."

"But she's coming? She's coming home tonight?"

"When will she be here?

"Is she bringing presents?"

Tess stood and soaked in the familiar voices and the atmosphere of her house. A layer of worry and guilt slid off her as she listened. Her leaving hadn't ruined anyone's life. Her coming back was something anticipated. There was no judgment.

Needing to see her family, Tess padded into the kitchen. All conversation and movement stopped as she appeared in the doorway. The scene before her was soothing to her raw nerves – the shock and surprise turning into delight. René, the impulsive one, was the first to break the tableau. Despite Cora's warnings to be careful, the boy plowed into Tess, and she had crouched down to greet him. Alma and Carlos soon followed with Selena tottering behind, her steps small but more certain than they'd been before Tess had left. Something inside Tess popped, and she started pressing kisses into childishly flushed cheeks as her eyes teared up.

"That's enough, let your aunt breathe." Cora gently disengaged the children and helped Tess stand, taking note of her walking cast. Overwhelmed, Tess hugged her nurse and friend, allowing herself to lean into the other woman. "Carlos, make sure everyone washes their hands. I'm going to put your aunt to bed."

Tess followed obediently, suddenly exhausted. Bed sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world. As the door to her bedroom open, she sighed as another wave of relief washed over her – everything was just where it was supposed to be. Not bothering to undress except to remove her cast, Tess climbed into her bed and sighed as all lights but the small lamp across the room were turned off. If Cora told her good-night, she didn't hear. It didn't matter. She was home.

* * *

**Two months later, ****Washington****D.C.******

The operation in Mexico had been so successful that the CIA bigwigs in conjunction with the Department of Defense had seen fit to not only put recommendations in personnel files and promotions in the right in-boxes, but to throw a big affair where metals would be awarded and promotions announced. Tess had fought going tooth and nail, wanting to have nothing more to do with the people that had sent her into a situation where she'd nearly died, but Cora had talked her into going. Tess had protested that the biggest event of the night was going to be when Sands received a purple heart for quote, "courage under fire or some rot like that. We all know its because he saved my ass," unquote. Cora had countered that if she didn't go, it would be tantamount to running away with her tail between her legs. And that . . . that was how Tess had ended up in a glittering stateroom in a hotel in the heart of the Capitol.

For a majority of the evening, she stood in a corner behind a potted plant, hiding. It didn't matter of her peach-colored silk dress was on par for the other women in the room, or if her hair was swept into just as sophisticated a knot, or if her nails were just as manicured. Tess still felt out of place here, and others seemed to agree with her.

Three times she'd been approached by people who'd been on Sands' team. Each time they greeted her, expressed their pleasure that she was well, and then moved on to talk to friends or colleagues. From her corner she watched as the small group was given medals of honor and toasts were made. From one side of the room, bulbs flashed as the press – who'd also been invited to this in lieu of a press conference – took pictures of the proud heroes. Tess didn't care. She only had eyes for one man.

She didn't know who had done it or how they'd done it, but somehow someone had managed to rope Sands into appearing, and not only appearing, but appearing in a tux. A tux that he'd even gone in to have fitted if she were any judge. The suit skimmed along his lean form, and out of the blue she wondered what he'd been up to since coming back. Not once had he tried to contact her, and while that seemed like a blessing, now she wasn't so sure.

**_Don't tell me you miss him._**__

_Is it any of your business if I do?_ The matter wasn't taken any farther. Ever since her release from the hospital, things in her head had been pretty quiet, but then again, she'd been avoiding stressful situations.

As he watched, he was given his awards. He didn't look too impressed.

**_Probably because he doesn't think that your life is worth this hoopla._**

_Shut up._

The man who'd been introduced as Assistant Director William Colton waited until the polite applause following the list of Sands' deeds died down before looking around as if trying to locate someone. "We'd hoped to be able to present Ms. Barillo with her own medal, but as of now, we haven't been able to locate her."

**_And they call themselves an intelligence agency._** Tess agreed with that, and hid a smile behind her punch glass.

"We also had a check to present her with in honor of the time she gave up to work for us –"

While Tess watched, amused by their incompetence, Sands eyes found her in her corner. For a moment he looked puzzled, but then he smirked. He twitched he head as if telling her to come up. Defiant, Tess raised her chin. She had no intention of being gawked at like a dancing bear. He raised an eyebrow and she shook her head.

"Well, perhaps we'll locate her sometime over the course of the night. For now, I'm sure you've heard the band tuning in the next room, and I'm being told that they're ready. So, feel free to mingle." The microphone was turned off, the press set aside their cameras and pads in favor of the buffet table, and masses of people moved into the next room.

Tess allowed the crowds to pass her, already planning to make her escape when she could. Before she could anything more than plot, however, the man she'd been thinking about appeared in front of her, a sardonic smirk on his face. They just looked at each other, and Tess felt a longing to talk to him, to touch him, to be alone with him. There had been halfway decent times between the two of them at times, and she had missed him even if she hadn't allowed herself to linger over it.

Sands made the first move. "Is this any way to greet the man who saved your life?"

"Is this any way to greet the woman who saved yours?" she countered.

"Ah, well I can't give you that kind of greeting in a public place. At least not with so many reporters around."

_He's still an arrogant bastard._ "So, what are you doing wasting time with me when there's undoubtedly flocks of women who would give you the kind of greeting you seem to want?"

"Why would you think that they catch my interest? Once you've tried insanity, you can't go back."

Tess rolled her eyes. "There's a compliment. Now that my evening is complete, I think I'll leave."

"You're not going to stay and dance?"

"You're considering dancing?" Was it just her, or were they being very circular in their conversation.

"Maybe once or twice."

"Bueno suerte." She turned to leave, unable to stand this any longer without going farther, but Sands stopped her by grabbing her elbow. "Can I help you?"

"You can stay."

The look in his eyes made her shiver. "I don't think that's a good idea," she murmured.

"It's never been a good idea, but here we are. Again."

"That's no reason to repeat a mistake."

"Experience enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again."

"Stop that," she whispered, gently pulling her arm away. "There are some mistakes that shouldn't be made a second time."

"Are you so sure it's a mistake?"

"Are you so sure that it wouldn't be?" They stood separated by no more than a foot, but Tess could feel herself widening the gulf of understanding between them. Being with him was just too hard. He would want all sorts of things from her – trust, flexibility, vulnerability – and wouldn't give those things back.

"Chica –"

"Agent Sands!" The brassy voice broke the world of quiet that they'd managed to slip into. "Agent Sands, wow, I've heard a lot about you." Tess looked away as a tall woman came up. She was a dark brunette with laughing green eyes and dimples. The dress that clung to her fit body was a deep green. "I'm agent Carter. I tried to sign on with you to go down to Mexico, but I was denied. They said I didn't have enough experience."

**_In or out of the sack?_**__

_Stop._

Sands just looked at the hand the woman held out and eventually shook it with an air of resignation. "Pleased to meet you, agent Carter. Now, if you'll notice that I was in the middle of a conversation –"

"Oh, how rude of me." The woman laughed loudly, and Tess winced. "Hello, my name is Amanda. I bet you were talking about how Colton embarrassed himself by trying to give an honorary metal to a woman who's not here. You know what I heard?" The agent didn't wait for anyone to answer. "I heard that the Barillo woman is totally off her rocker. I bet she's in some institution somewhere bouncing herself off the walls."

**_Kill her._**

Before Sands had a chance to intervene – which he should have done long ago – Tess raised her chin and said in an icy voice, "Actually I'm told that I prefer to bounce loudmouthed sluts off the walls. Oh, that was rude. It must be time for my medication. Excuse me."

As she left, she heard the woman mutter, "Well, isn't _she_ the bitch. However did you stand working with her?"

"It was a challenge alright . . ." Distance and talk covered the rest of Sands' reply.

Tess stormed out of the room, leaving the hotel and the fancy ballroom behind. She'd never been so humiliated in her entire life. Never had she felt so . . . stung. So raw. So incredibly, furiously, vulnerable. She gave up. She truly did. If she ever saw _him_ again, she'd kill him. How _dare_ he just stand there and stay silent? One moment he was asking her to stay, and the next . . .

_I hate him! Why did I come here?_

When she heard the running footsteps gaining on her from behind, she felt adrenaline surge through her body. She reacted, not caring who it was, but hoping it was the man she never wanted to see again. With trembling hands, she twisted just as the person reached her, ducking under any restraining arms and expertly sweeping their feet out from under them. She was on them before they had time to recover, slamming her knee into their gut, knocking the wind out of them; then she was on her feet, racing down the street, ignoring the strange looks she was getting from the pedestrians. She supposed she did make an odd picture, dodging obstacles, running like a bat out of hell in heels and evening wear, but she didn't care. All that mattered was getting away from _him_.

She couldn't run fast enough though, not when she was in unsteady heels and had tears blinding her eyes and he was in flats. Dress shoes, certainly, but better for running than hers.

His hand caught the sash that'd been tied around her waist. He hauled her into a deserted alleyway, fending off blows and escape attempts alike. Sands hadn't thought that she would have this much energy so soon after the accident, but apparently he'd been mistaken.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Tess knew all this was her own fault. She should have ignored the invitation. The government wanted to 'honor' her for her service? This was a hell of a way to show it. Their darling, their rebellious golden boy got medals and commendations, and she was introduced as the one who'd "helped" him. She didn't mind that. She didn't want the attention. She'd never wanted it. But the fact that she'd been patronized and gossiped about. . . . But _Sands_. He was a two-faced, manipulative asshole.

"You fucking prick," she hissed, going still in the arms that were restraining her. "What was it? Did I hurt your 'pride' by leaving? Did I destroy your masculine fantasy that you'd mastered me? That I would wait in the background for you to come to my rescue?"

Sands was taken aback by the violence in her voice. He'd followed her thinking to apologize – an act that'd cost him most of his self-respect. She clearly hated him. Why didn't he deck her as payment for the injury she'd inflicted – a few inches lower and he could have given up all hope of ever fathering children – and take off? Mission accomplished. Was he fooling himself by thinking that they could somehow . . .

When Sands didn't answer her, she once again tried to twist free. The need to kill was fading, but the need to run away, to hide, to escape was still strong. She knew it'd take next to nothing to rekindle the desire for his blood though. She had to get away now. "Get your hands off me before I break them."

Sands, never the most patient or polite man on earth, felt himself reach his limit. Yes, he was controlled, but he was controlled for the same reason she was. Because if he wasn't, he didn't want to see the consequences. But now his own temper broke free, fueled by a measure of unwanted hurt.

He twirled Tess around, slamming her back into the wall of the alley.

Tess hissed in pain, lashing out with the one hand she'd managed to free. She swiped at his face with her nails, but he ducked out of the way just in time. "Stop it, you schizo."

He felt her freeze as her mind registered what he'd just said. Her body went completely limp and slid down the wall as her legs folded under her.

**_He admits it, at long last._**

Sands himself was in a bit of shock. He was pissed at Tess, mad that she was striking out at _him_ without giving a reason . . . but that had been uncalled for. And he couldn't apologize, because that's not what they did.

"I'll kill you for that," Tess said, her voice cold and her head turned away from him. "I'll fucking kill you." She looked up at him, and it was if she were wearing a mask. Her eyes were full of animosity and betrayal, but her face was completely composed. "What was it? Has no one ever walked out on you before?" He just watched her, and that made her temper flare even higher. "You know what I think? I think you just found out that no matter how much you've tried to disassociate yourself from the rest of the human race, you've found out that you have feelings, but you refuse to admit first. No, you want me to concede all, but I'm not going to. "

Sands felt her words, and couldn't deny their truth. Yes. Fine. He had emotions, and they were in a turmoil over her – and not a good turmoil – and he _didn't_ know what to do. Tess just stared at him out of accusing eyes, not letting him off the hook for this one.

He ran an impatient and frustrated hand through his hair, looking around at his surroundings. How had things disintegrated into this? He's had her right in the palm of his hand.

Looking up, he noticed a pair of old-fashioned knickers hanging from a fire escape. _You've got__ to be kidding me,_ he thought. Looking farther down the alleyway, he saw another fire escape, this one covered in potted plants. Somehow, they'd managed to get to his apartment building.

_Fine._ He could take a hint. Tess was most likely going to carry through on her threat, but either way, things ended tonight.

He took her hand, gently but firmly, noticing that her eyes narrowed at him, but she didn't exactly protest. If he could keep her off-balance a little longer, they could at least get up to his apartment.

Tess allowed Sands to pull her inside the building, not trusting for a moment that he'd simply given up on their argument. Something was running through his head, and if she was smart, she'd leave now. She would pull her hand free of his grasp and take off for her hotel. But she didn't. Some part of her wondered what he was thinking, while another whispered that it was better to commit homicide in private.

Sands felt some of his anxiety fade as she followed him silently. Her mask was still in place, and anger still filled her eyes, but it was quickly being replaced by confusion and soul-deep hurt. By now, his main goal was to make that hurt go away, at least for a little bit. He had no way of knowing that Tess wanted the exact same thing.

He unlocked the door to his apartment on the ninth floor, bringing Tess in after him. Closing the door and locking it behind them, he reached for the small table that was right by the doorway, pulling his .22 from the drawer. He took Tessa's hand in his, wrapping her hand around the gun and her finger around the trigger. He then trapped her with his body, standing close enough to her that the barrel of the gun dug into his breastbone. "What are you waiting for, chiquita? I thought you wanted to kill me. Here's your chance. If you don't take it now, I can guarantee that you won't get the opportunity again."

The voice screamed at her, telling her to go through with it and to drop the weapon at the same time. Her finger tightened on the trigger at the same time her hand started to fall to her side. What was happening? She didn't understand this. This wasn't how people were supposed to react to death threats.

Sands grabbed her wrist in his, pulling it back up. He didn't think she'd really pull the trigger, but if she did, he'd rather be dead than lose some rather vital equipment. "What's wrong? Lost your nerve?"

She started to tremble, overwhelmed by a slew of disparate and conflicting emotions. Yes. She wanted to hurt him for the hurt he'd caused her. She wanted to soothe the raging emptiness inside her – one that was quickly becoming less emotional and more physical. For the first time she could remember, her voice had completely stepped back, letting her make her own choice, letting her deal with her own emotions without help or hindrance. The only advice it offered was this; **_Amazing how close bloodlust is to physical lust, isn't it?_**

Tess shook off that thought, shaking her head at the same time she pressed the barrel of the gun more firmly against Sands' chest. She could kill him in a second. She had opportunity and reason . . . but not certainty. Tears were leaking from her eyes from the physical and emotional stress. She could make the immediate problem go away, she could seek temporary comfort and oblivion, or she could leave and sort through all this after taking a tranquilizer.

Sands knew what choice she would make before she did. He saw the different emotions transmuting in her eyes; uncertainty into desire, hate into passion, the urge to hurt into lust. The only emotion that didn't change was the hurt that still cast a opaque haze over all the other emotions. God, he hated himself for it, but he wanted that to go away, if for no other reason than to relieve his own guilt, but he knew he had other reasons. Reasons he was beginning to think were never going to be enough. Not enough for life, but perhaps enough for tonight. Whether he liked it or not, Tess was in his blood and it didn't seem like she'd be leaving any time soon.

With gentle hands he cupped her head, ignoring the sensation of the small gun jabbing even more firmly into his chest. It didn't matter if she did pull the trigger – he now remembered that he'd cleaned the thing this afternoon and hadn't replaced the ammo yet. Tipping her head back, he kissed her softly – sweetly almost – barely even touching her skin.

It was too much. All Tess knew was she had to do something – anything – to quell the emotions rioting through her. Any outlet would do, anything to stop the sensations running through her body and the lie that Sands might actually care about her. She pulled the trigger, jerking herself free of Sands when nothing but a hollow click emerged from the weapon. "You bastard," she hissed, knowing that he'd been planning this all along. Furious and full of desire at the same time, she threw herself at him, again trying to claw him. He caught her arms easily, but was left defenseless as she bit his lip hard enough to make him bleed.

"What the he–" As he tried to pull away, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, silencing his protests, shivering with disgust as she tasted his blood. It was enough to make her pull her mouth from his, but not enough to make her stop. She kissed his neck, biting and sucking as her hands worked on his shirt. Her only goal was to make him as defenseless as he'd left her, to show him how much it hurt to be used.

Despite all common sense, Sands found himself becoming aroused by Tessa's uninhibited response to him. Yes, she was acting this way because he'd pissed her off, but it was just evidence that he affected her just as much as she affected him. He fought to keep his touches gentle, a dramatic counterpoint to her infuriated and confused demands. When she ripped open his shirt, destroying one of the only dress-shirts he had left, he growled, but refused to retaliate. When she stripped him of his belt, he instinctively pressed closer to her, although he didn't make any further demands. When her hands ruthlessly closed in around his arousal, though, he did react, gently pulling her hands away.

Tess wasn't even sure what she was doing anymore. She just knew she felt this overwhelming need to dominate, to soothe the raging demands inside her body in any way she could. Sands had closed one of those options off from her, but that left others. She swept his feet out from under him for the second time that night, following him down, straddling his waist. She heard the slits of her dress rip as she forced more freedom from them than they could give, but she paid it no mind. She twisted her wrists free, ignoring the pain the move caused. With her hands back under her control, she pulled the loop of fabric that held her dress up over her head, revealing the peach colored strapless bra she was wearing. She took his wrists, placing Sands' hands on her chest.

Sands could see just how lost to reason she was, just how lost in desire. Looking up at her, seeing her blue eyes as they blazed down at him, seeing her hair as it toppled haphazardly from its fancy style, seeing her chest as it heaved with her emotionally charged breath, he made a decision. This one night – this _one_ night – he would be what she needed, but that was it. That was all he could afford to give her because it wasn't in his nature to offer more.

When he started kneading her breasts with his strong hands, Sands was rewarded with an almost animalistic keening sound. Tess moved against him, moved over him, seeking pleasure from his body. As she moved, her top slipped even lower, revealing the scar left from the wire spring that'd transfixed her body after the accident. He stared at it, remember that night.

Tess had no time for such reminisces. She adjusted herself over Sands, moving so that her center ground against his hardened length, rejoicing as a groan was wrenched from his lips. _This_ he felt. She could make him feel this way. This was truth – the only truth she might ever get from him, and one any woman could probably get, but truth nonetheless. She whimpered as his hips bucked under hers, matching the demanding tempo she'd set up.

To save himself the embarrassment of coming in his pants, Sands released one of her breasts and jerked on her hips. Raising his knees behind her to give her some support, he delved under her skirt with his hand, seeking her tight, wet, sheathe. Her panties were soaked; he would deal with getting them off later. Right now, he slipped his fingers under them, thrusting in time with her hips.

Tess felt her last link to reality fall away with that. She couldn't remember anything that had led up with this, didn't remember any name except for the one belonging to the man underneath her. She cried out, her lips forming his name as she moved to allow him greater access. The fire inside her kept building, spreading to every part of her body, stealing her sight, her breath, and eventually her tongue. And then it flared suddenly, stealing the frenzied demands of her muscles. She collapsed on top of Sands, moaning as he didn't stop, as he wouldn't let the feelings die. The fire flared again, like a tidal wave, receding before swamping her one last time.

This time the fire stayed in her limbs and head, weighing them down. She could feel her wits returning, but not her voice, not her desperation, and not her anger. The need to be close, to share the only thing left between her and this man remained, but she had no idea how to bring things to completion.

Sands caught his breath and the frail threads of his control as Tess laid on top of him, legs spread and skirt hitched up around her waist. He had to get back control, or he'd burst, and he intended on pleasuring them both for quite a bit longer than that.

When he had shaky control over himself and his impulses, Sands lifted Tess off him, holding her up as he pushed her dress over her hips to the floor. She hung in his grip, still somewhat out of it from her previous orgasm. With a groan, he picked her up and carried her to the couch. He laid her down, stretching out her body. Her eyes looked up at him, confused and asking for direction. Her emotions had run dry, leaving her without recourse. He was glad because he wanted to be in control now, not her. Wiping at his lip with the back of his hand, he found that it'd stopped bleeding; the cut must not have been very deep.

With a sigh, he reached over and pulled Tessa's panties off her long legs, then lifted her torso up to unfasten and remove her bra. Standing, looking down at her the entire time, he removed his pants and boxers, then stretched his own body down alongside hers. She turned towards him and he noticed the goosebumps on her skin. He pulled her close, trapping the way her skin felt against his, the way her long legs entangled with the length of his.

Rolling slightly, he trapped Tess underneath him. She looked up at him with quizzical eyes, wondering what he was doing. For a time he did nothing more than trace her face and skin with his fingers. Then he lowered his head and kissed her, just as gently as he had before. She recoiled a bit, as if she expected eventual repayment for the bite she'd given him, but he had no intention of doing that. As the kiss stayed non-demanding, she started to respond, cautiously, but responding nonetheless.

As his hands started to roam over her body, Tess relaxed even more, pressing against him, moving with his caresses. His legs nudged hers apart and she hesitantly followed his lead. His head moved down her chest, brushing light kisses over her skin. She arched against his mouth, cradling his head just as gently as he was cradling her body with his arms.

Sands kissed, and tongued, and nipped until Tess was moving restlessly under him. Then, with the utmost care, he eased into her, exhaling as he felt her gripping him tightly, as he felt her body pulling him into her. She moved, lifting her hips to accept it all and to make the contact deeper. Her eyes were closed in concentration; Sands leaned down and kissed them gently.

Then, levering himself up over her, resting his weight on his forearms, Sands gently set up a slow rhythm that would bring her to a leisurely but forceful oblivion. And after she fell asleep, he would move her to his bed while he left for the rest of the night. By tomorrow morning she would be gone, and he could attempt to return his life to normal.

Tess, unaware of these thoughts, simply _felt_. She let the physical sensations of Sands moving over, and around, and inside her overwhelm her until she could think of nothing else. His pace picked up slightly as her head started to toss and whispered pleas started to escape her lips. Finally his fingers moved between their bodies to brush lightly against her nub. The incredible gentleness of it all was what eventually made her come, crying our softly against his shoulder as she pulled her body tightly against his. Once she laid still under him, he gave in to his own needs, thrusting into her with short but powerful movements. He groaned against her neck as his pleasure overwhelmed him, and his arms gave out, finally bringing his body to rest against hers.

* * *

Tonight had either been a good-bye or a commitment. Too much had changed since the fall for this level of indecision and feigned indifference to continue. The fights, the silences, the sex – all were symptoms of an unmade decision and Tess couldn't take it anymore. Tonight, something had to give.

"Why did you come find me?" Sands was lying off to her side, his back facing her. He'd taken her to his bed, meaning to let her rest, but she'd refused to let him go and he hadn't put up much of a fight. "I mean, right before we found ourselves in a hand basket bound for hotter climes. Why come find me when I had done everything I could for you?"

Sands was quiet for a moment before answering sardonically, "I told you. You owed me a pity fuck."

Tess shook her head, more for her benefit than for his. "No. I don't believe that. No one travels across an entire continent just for sex. Especially sex with someone as screwed up as I am. There had to other women who were not only more geographically desirable, but had fewer strings attached as well."

"So I'm a sick bastard. You already knew that."

"Sands." She hated how weary her voice sounded, but she was tired of all the bullshit. She just wanted a straight answer for once.

_Crap_. She wasn't buying it. She was supposed to buy it. Everyone accepted what he said at face value. They may not trust his words, but they didn't go digging either.

He made a decision. Fine. If she wanted truth, he'd give her truth. "You left and I hated you for it. I actually let myself depend on you, for weeks. You saw more of me than anyone has a right to, and you did it without making a single judgment. And then you left. You left me with someone I didn't know, and didn't even come close to trusting. And I hated you. And I wanted you to hate me. But you're so fucking stubborn."

Tess heard the accusation in his voice, the betrayal. She wished she could see his face. Wished she could explain the confusion and panic that had enveloped her after getting to LA the year before. "I had nothing left to give you, no more help to offer. Besides, the way you acted that night when you found out who I really was . . . I thought you'd be glad to never have to see me." She fell silent, judging whether or not to say the next thought that came to her, and then decided to go for it. If she wanted change, this should spur it. "You wanted me to hate you? I'll tell you what will do the trick. Just leave."

In the silence and in the dim light of her bedroom, Tess could feel him weighing his options. She let him think for nearly an hour, too nervous to speak or go to sleep, but finally the words pushed themselves past her lips. "So . . . am I going to find you here in the morning, or am I going to go home and inform my mattress that its going to have to resume its former life of chastity?"

"What do you want to find?"

Tess was tempted to read into his non-answer, but stopped herself. "It's not about what I want. If the world ran the way I wanted, I would be sane, I would have had a family that valued me beyond my worth as a slave, and I never would have met you. But my past happened, whether I wanted it to or not, and the present will happen the same way. What I need decided is my future. And if you decide to stay, it won't be _my_ future anymore." He said nothing. "I can't stay straddled on a fence anymore; a woman who can't make up her mind without a conference sleeping with a man who can't admit to anything. I'm not asking for anything beyond a sign that I can at least rely on seeing you again. I'm not asking for commitment, just . . . just a indication of what I need to expect." Somewhere along the line, this had turned into the relationship talk she didn't want to have. They barely had a relationship to build on. But that's what she needed decided – whether they were willing to work on being something other than bed-partners.

_God knows our lives would be easier without each other._ He'd never been one to take the easy road before, but the commitment she was asking for was bigger than any he'd ever made in his life. "Go to sleep, niña."

She sighed. "Good-night, Sands."

* * *

Long after Tess fell asleep, Sands stayed awake, trying to decide what to do. He had a feeling that he was going to need more than a night to decide. As the sun rose, he quietly got dressed and left his apartment.

When Tess woke, he was still gone.

* * *

**Author's Note 2: remember, I will be posting a prologue in a few days, so don't go away yet.**

**Quotes:** Dean Koontz; Grease; F. Scott Fitzgerald; Thomas Moore; Dylan Thomas; _The__ Joneses_

**Author Thanks:** for the rants and reviews, I thank **Merrie** (No chomping on fingernails. You might hurt your fingers, and then how would you write? See? I wrote more. Be content and update something of yours in return. ); **Raven** (Running into a wall would be bad. It might hurt. Yes, Tess is alive, Sands is being uncharacteristically agreeable, and Carlos is a goner. He won't be around to harass anyone ever again. It was my pleasure to use your idea for Neva, since I was just going to bump her off. For the time being, this is the last of my OUATIM series. I do have a concept for a third in this universe, and perhaps one in a different , but I've got other stories to work on while I develop more OUTAIM fics. And personally, I think your – at least written since I've never heard you speak – English is better than mine at times.); **quick29** (Yes, I thought Tess should have the honor of offing her cousin. As for whether you're close or not to how things are going to end, are you? ); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl** (don't worry about coming up with a nickname for your screenname. That just seems unnecessarily complex. This chapter is not the end, but the next will be, at least for now. As someone pointed out, I've been writing OUATIM fics for a year now, and I'd like to try something new. Perhaps more Sands and Tess in the future though. We'll have to see.); **Dreamgirl21147** (Yes, short, short, short update times. I want to finish this story. I'm ready to move on to a new period in my fanfic life. I hope this chapter made up for the shortness of the last.); **Shannon** (The Fear and Loathing quotes are all because of a friend of mine. Don't worry about me – just write. Things often come out better than we think they do. If you want to write it out, I'll e-mail you my signature. winks And I could never kill Tess. She's my baby.); **SS** (heeeeey. Glad you could join us. winks I'm afraid it must end, like all good things, otherwise I'd be breaking the rules. The reasons I left the other chapters where I did was to get people to swear. That was the idea. I'm evil. Yes, you may cry. Abberline and Mort will comfort you as I write their fics.); **Isola** (wow, until you said how long you've been reading, I hadn't realized how long I've been writing. As for your daily fix, go back and start from the beginning. ); **Kontara** (Yes, I'm trying to update as fast as I can. I hope this make you want to put down the shovel.); **normal human being** (You're nice to me because if you're not, then I leave you at the cruel, twisted cliffhangers that torment you. See how well that works? No, it's not sadistic to love Tess being hurt, because I wrote it so have to like it by default, or would if I hadn't wanted to do that for a long time.)


	21. Epilogue

**Author's note and thanks at the end.**

**WARNING: smut scene halfway through. Skip if you don't like that sort of thing.**

* * *

A week went by. Tess lived in a sort of daze, dealing with what parts of her life she had to. She saw the three older children off every morning to their day-camp, spend her mornings cleaning and her afternoons in various staff meetings at the college. When the children came home in the neighborhood carpool, she oversaw baths and showers as they were needed as she fixed dinner. In the evenings the children ran around outside until dark, Lena either tagging along after them or playing in the sandbox behind the house. Tess cleaned the kitchen – which meant hand washing the dishes, scrubbing down the stove or the oven if it had been used, wiping down the table, moping the floors. Normally she would leave some of these duties to Cora, but she'd given the other woman a month off in return for everything she'd done while Tess herself had been away or unable to.

After things were as clean as she could get them, she would jog for a little while. Not as long as she did before her accident, but long enough for it to count as exercise, and she was able to get a little further each day.

Once it started to get dark, the kids were called home to get ready for bed even if they didn't get into it straight away. Tess gave Lena her bath and put the toddler to bed, then read bedtime stories to those who required them, and tucked in everyone. By the time she got into bed herself, it would be full dark.

It was the nights that were the problem though. During the day her mind was kept occupied and her old discipline had returned enough that she could keep her thoughts focused on the task before her. Once night hit and she ran out of things to do, then she could no longer keep the hurt and confusion at bay. Rather than torture herself with possible excuses for why she'd woken alone that morning, and whether she'd left prematurely, she would spend the hours between dark and dawn doing anything she could to _not_ think about Sands. Alternately, her nights passed in dreamless sleep thanks to sedatives and the desperate heights of insomnia.

The first week turned into a second, and a second into a third. Independence Day came and went with its explosive firework displays. Carlos, Lena, and René all went off to a YMCA camp for two weeks. In their absence, Tess started spending more time rewriting, reworking, and reinventing curriculum in the small office she'd made in her attic. Classes would start in six weeks or so, and she wanted to know her teaching material like the back of her hand. Thoughts of Sands still plagued her, whether they came in her own voice or in the voices of those she shared her head with. _One more week,_ she told them. _One more week and I turn away the hope of anything else._ As if to convince herself that she didn't need anyone in her life, she went to a pet store and bought a small grey kitten that she named Solitude.

Five days of her given week passed. She spent all day Friday in an inservice. The State required that she attend since she had no actual teaching license. Her car had refused to start, so a co-worker had picked her up and chauffeured her around as she dropped Lena off to be babysat. Ian – her friend – had to attend the lecture as well since he was in the same straights she was, except he taught psychology and not medicine.

It was late when the inservice ended, and later by the time they stopped to pick Lena up. By the time they arrived at Tessa's house, the sun was starting to set and the toddler was getting cranky; left at an unfamiliar house, she'd declined to take a nap and needed to be put down.

"Thanks for the ride, Ian."

"Not a problem. I'm always up for helping a damsel in distress."

Oh, she was in distress alright. But not in any way that he could help her with – psych professor or not. "I can't believe that my car chose today not to work." Although it made sense with the way the rest of her life was going at the moment. "I really do appreciate the fact you gave me a ride. I wasn't looking forward to using the bus."

"I aim to please. Door to door service even." He'd walked her to her front door. Tess hesitated to open her front door, even with a half-sleeping child in her arms; after spending so much of the day with him, she had the feeling that Ian had something he wanted to say, and that she was most likely not going to like what he had to say. "Sounds pretty quiet in there. The kids home?"

"No. They're at camp until next week." _Which is good, because I need the alone time._ "I've got the house to myself tonight." _Maybe tonight I'll allow myself to cry and not worry about waking anyone._

"That's good. It looks as if you could use the sleep."

"Yeah. I was planning on making a bit of dinner then going to bed."

They stood there silently, Tess starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. She had a feeling she knew what was coming. "You know, I make a pretty mean chicken Caesar salad. If you wanted . . ." his voice trailed off.

"I appreciate the offer, Ian, but this isn't a good time for me. I, umm ­–"

"She's seeing someone." Tess twirled to look behind her, jostling Lena into pathetic whimpers. She didn't really hear though.

Her front door was wide open and there was a man standing in the doorway. A man she thought was long out of touch.

Sands eyed Tess and her companion with a critical eye, as if he didn't even think enough of the little scene to dislike it. Tessa was standing with a look of shocked disbelief on her face and her friend was definitely not happy. "What's wrong, _conejo_? You look like you've seen a ghost." Tessa's look of shock was quickly absorbed by a mask of indifference and he held back a wince. It took a lot to get Tess to make that look. _Eh._ He switched his gaze to Tessa's male companion. "Who're you?"

Ian bristled at the man's tone. Whoever this was, Tessa hadn't looked happy to see him. "I think the more important question is –"

"It's alright, Ian. I can defend myself." Tess broke in before anything that might lead to blows being exchanged could be said. "Again, thank you for the ride home. I really appreciated it." The man knew from the tone of her voice that she was ready for him to leave.

"Well. It was my pleasure." Ian reached out and squeezed Tessa's elbow, giving Sands one last dark look before heading back down the walkway.

Tess turned her back on Sands and watched her friend leave, composing her heart. He'd left. She'd told him that if he wanted to hurt her, he could leave, and he had. They hadn't spoken for nearly a month now. She'd gone and changed the locks because he'd gotten in so easily that first time. She'd been planning a night alone to get over him, and here he was. Well, if he thought she was going to welcome him in, then he had another thing coming.

Once Ian's car was out of sight, Tess turned back to Sands. Without saying a thing, she brushed past him, into _her_ house, and put her briefcase down by the door as she always did, getting as comfortable as she could before going into battle. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Sands with her arms protectively wrapped around her charge and looked at him, not saying a thing. What did she have _to_ say? Nothing, or at least not anything that wouldn't incriminate her.

Sands stared back at her for a moment, eyeing the set of her shoulders, the blank look on her face, and the aura of pain surrounding her. He'd seen her like this once before, back before things had gone to hell _again_ in Mexico. _"Neither of us said that we were committing to a monogamous relationship, did we? And since we didn't, then I have no real right to be upset, do I?"_ She'd been furious and hurt despite her words. She'd held herself the same way then as she was now. _Looks like I have some work to do._ "Go upstairs and put the kid to bed. Dinner will be ready soon."

Tess watched as Sands left the room, going into the kitchen. She sighed and went upstairs. She'd tuck Lena in, but because _she_ wanted to, not because she'd been told to.

After settling the girl in for the night, Tess made a conscious effort to relax. To that end, she went into her bedroom to change. The lights were lowered and there was a set of sweats on her bed. _Damn him._ She ignored the fact that she had been planning to change into sweats in the first place, and went into her closet.

He'd pulled out new clothes; she went for her rattiest pair of flannel pants she owned. She slipped out of her skirt, pantyhose, and blouse, putting everything in the laundry basket out of habit. Then she donned the pants and a soft cotton t-shirt, pulling on a heavy wool cardigan over that. Then she found a pair of ratty socks and put those on. Having done all this, she went into the bathroom and pulled her hair back in a sloppy ponytail and took out her contacts. _There, that should kill anything he has planned. The sooner he leaves, the better. I think._ As she left the room, she grabbed her glasses and put them on.

Once back downstairs, she went into the kitchen, ignored Sands as she took a bottle of water from the fridge, then went into the living room. She plopped onto the couch, pulling a cashmere blanket over her lap and hugging a pillow to herself. Sands watched as she turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels. He fought down his irritation, biting back several rude comments. So Tess had her panties in a bunch. He had set out months ago to achieve that very goal. It wasn't his fault he'd gone and changed his mind so late.

**_If it's not your fault, then whose is it, fuckmook?_**

****_Shut the hell up._ Sands went back into the kitchen and started dishing up the food. The entire point of tonight was to . . . to what? Earn forgiveness? That made him sound like a wuss. As did 'trying to get her to take him back.' Reconciliation? No, that didn't sound right either. Settling matters of mutual trust to his benefit and her pleasure? He might be able to live with that definition.

When he'd left his apartment a month ago, it'd been to take a walk and order his thoughts. Every night for the following few weeks he did the same, but never seemed to make any headway into controlling the chaos that was inside his head. The only thing he did manage to do was work up a healthy appetite, and a desire to see her again.

It was that unfading desire simply to _see_ her that had eventually forced him to face facts. Yes, they had a volatile relationship, but then he'd started it with the intention of hurting her. Of making her change from a woman who'd left him, to a woman dependent on him. Well, he couldn't make that happen, and trying to force the issue only made the both of them uncomfortable. Tess had made many concessions already because of her circumstances in Mexico, but he hadn't been satisfied with them. Now he knew he wasn't satisfied with the way things currently were between them either.

That's why he'd taken some time off and made the trip to Fairmont. Things had been more comfortable between them before he'd regained his eyesight. He simply wanted to see if they had any sort of connection if they were both free from outside pressures. What he wanted couldn't quite be put into words, but Sands knew that it was _something_, and that he couldn't find it if they were in two different states – geographical or mental.

****Versions of these thoughts ran through his head as he surveyed the tray of food before taking it out to the TV. _I guess I'd better hope this isn't too good. She's already on the edge of using me for target practice._ He took the food out.

Tess didn't look away from the TV as she heard Sands come up behind her. She'd found a channel playing a Johnny Depp movie-marathon. At the moment, the last half hour or so of 'Blow' was playing, and then 'From Hell' was going to be on. She still intended on ignoring Sands throughout the entire night until he left. Again. He'd made his choice nearly a month ago. Let him live with it like she'd had to.

**_You've missed him._**

_Yes._

**_I'm proud of you. For not giving in to him. I know how much you want to touch him._**

_I want to throw him out._

_**Liar.**_

****_He **hurt** me. He left. He left after I told him it'd make me hate him._

_**But you don't hate him.**_

****_I want to._

Sands came and sat on the couch, on the other end from her, but on the same piece of furniture nonetheless. He set the tray on the table and Tess looked at it out of the corner of her eye: there was a green salad, a fruit salad, warm garlic bread, and chicken alfredo. Why did he have to go and be nice?

**_He just wants into your bed again._**

****_If that's all he wanted, all he would have to do is kiss me into submission – which we all know wouldn't take long – and take me wherever he wanted. He wants something else._

Tess ignored the food for several seconds before her stomach growled. The food at the inservice had been completely unappetizing, not to mention she hadn't been eating much lately. Reluctantly, she reached for the salad, eating it quickly enough. Tess eyed the rest of the food – to eat it, she'd have to let go of her pillow. Sands hadn't said anything to her yet. Carefully, she set the pillow on the floor and took a plate of food and a slice of bread, then settled back down into her seat. She took a bite – even worse than the fact that Sands was being nice was the fact that the food was actually _good._

Sands watched as Tessa ate. Her body language indicated that she was as skittish as a wild animal. He cursed his own delay and impatience – it was going to take some time for her to settle down. Women really were nothing but trouble. Especially this one. Because this one _meant_ something.

The two finished their meal quietly. Once she was done, Tess picked up her pillow again. The next movie started. They watched it silently. About fifteen minutes in, Tess heard Sands curse. She looked over dully, sick of all the emotions he was raising in her. Then she saw the small ball of fluff in his lap. Sands, for all his objections, was doing nothing to remove the small cat, who had seemingly taken a quick and strong dislike to him as well.

Tess rolled her eyes as she reached over to take the small grey tabby from him. "Com'ere, Solitude." The small ball of fluff let Tess pick it up, although it kept hissing at Sands. Tess was glad to see that the kitten had some sense. Once she had the cat in her lap, it stopped its antics and started purring. When Tess looked up to see if Sands had recovered, she saw him giving the small cat a very evil look. "Is there a problem?"

"You mean apart from the fact that your cat wanted to castrate me?" Sands shrugged. "When'd you find time to get a cat?"

"I thought all crazy women kept cats." Tessa's voice had more bitterness in it than she wanted to show, so she went back to watching the movie.

**_I don't know if you've noticed, but he's not going to leave. Even that incident with your cat didn't upset him enough for him to leave._**

****_Yes, thank you, I did notice._

_**I could make him leave.**_

****_There's no way in hell I'm giving you that opportunity._ "From hell. At least they got the address right."

**_You're not saying something._**

****_I don't know what you're talking about._

_**I know you don't want to let me out . . . but you don't want him to leave either. Do you?**_

****_Of course I do._

_**Right. And that's why you haven't done so much as **_**ask_ him to leave._**

_Why bother? He won't leave until he's ready to._ It was getting hard not to look at him, hard not to touch him. She'd _missed_ him. And he was back. No one who'd ever left her had come back. But he'd left to make her hate him. So did his being back mean he _didn't_ want her to hate him, or did it mean that he wanted her to hate him more? _It doesn't matter. I won't give him the opportunity to do that again._

_**Right. As long as we're trying to honest here, can I point something out? You're going to keep giving him chances to hurt you, and you're going to keep doing that because you were stupid enough to fall in l – **_

_NO! I didn't. I **couldn't**. I told myself I wouldn't. As long as I never say it and he never says it, then nothing exists between us. Things only exist if you say them out loud._

_**How do I fit into that equation?**_

****_I talk to you out loud._

_**You're becoming an excellent liar, Teresa. Must be his influence.**_

****_I'm not lying._ Solitude had crawled from her lap some time ago, and she wrapped her arms around her knees still hugging the pillow.

Sands watched as Tess folded in on herself. At first he thought that the end of the movie was getting to her – that perhaps it was too similar to something she'd seen in Guevera's workroom as a young woman, but when tears started running from her closed eyes he realized that something else was getting to her.

As he kept watching, she started rocking back and forth, shaking her head from side to side. Apparently her other side was beating her up over something. Or perhaps the stress of having him here was getting to her. It certainly wasn't the cheesy ending of the movie with the sexually repressed inspector 'sacrificing' himself for the woman he loved. She'd missed all that. "What's wrong, _custida_?"

His eyes widened as she jumped from the couch like a startled doe. "Don't call me that!" she yelled, holding her blanket around her shoulders. She was trembling with pent up emotion and exhaustion. Her tears didn't show in her voice although they kept trailing down her face. "Keep your pet names to yourself." Her voice was calmer which gave greater impact to her tears. "I never asked for them. I never asked for any of this. I never asked to find you, I never asked for you to find me. I never asked for anything between us, I never asked you to leave, and I sure as hell didn't ask you to come back. So _don't_ pretend that nothing happened between us, because everything that did was instigated by _you_."

"If you wanted me to leave, all you had to do was ask, _niña_."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like me to ask you to leave so then your final departure would be my fault, so everything could be laid on my shoulders. Well I'm not going to give that to you, Sands. If you want to leave, go right ahead, but don't expect me to . . . to . . . ." She tried to take a breath, but her tears seemed to be blocking her lungs themselves. "I _hate_ you," she whispered. "I hate you."

_Ah . . . la señorita is mad because she's found out the same thing I have. We came to mean something to one another._ "I know. That was the point, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "Why are you here, Sands?" Her voice was defeated. "Do you find it amusing to torture me? Are you afraid that some other woman will throw you out on your ass if you treated her the same way you treat me?"

Sands got up from the couch. "How is it that I treat you, _pequeña_? What's so horrible about the way I act around you?" With each question, he came a step closer to her. "Do I point out the fact that you're mad every time I feel like it? Do I hit you? Do I curse you on a regular basis? Do I rape you? Do I use you?"

"Yes, you use me. Do you enjoy wrapping me around your little finger? Do you enjoy pulling on my emotions like a mad puppeteer?"

Sands was silent. He couldn't answer that one. "Let me ask you something, _conejo_. If we put aside the fact that I left, what would we be doing right now? If I hadn't left and we had the house to ourselves, what would we be doing?"

"It doesn't matter. You _did_ leave. That changes everything."

"I came back. I'd say that changes something too. I'm not used to finding myself so involved with a woman that I come back when part of me is screaming to leave. And since you refuse to answer the question, I will. We'd be upstairs in your bed, or we'd be on the couch, and we'd be tripping the light fantastic." Tess shuddered. "You know we would, don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Why aren't you touching me, Teresa?"

"Because then I'd want you to stay." She almost felt as if she were in a trance. What could she do but answer? It's not as if she could get any more pitiful.

Sands reached over and removed her glasses. "Why are you dressed in so many layers, Teresa?"

_Why grandmother, what big ears you have._ "Because I don't want you to touch me."

"Why aren't you moving away, Teresa?"

_Why grandmother, what big eyes you have._ "Because I don't want to leave you."

"Teresa, do you want me to stay?"

_Why grandmother, what sharp teeth you have._ "Yes." She held back a sob. "Yes, damn you." She lashed out with one hand, hitting him over the heart with her fist. Sands grabbed both her wrists before she could hit him again, and she felt all her barriers fall. She started crying in earnest, strung out from all the emotion.

Sands, being a typical male, didn't like hearing a woman cry, so he hushed her by placing his mouth over hers. She tasted like tears. __

Tess kissed him back, pouring all her anguish into it. She fought to free her hands, then grabbed his upper arms, remembering a time when there'd been a hole in one and a gun in the other and yet she'd supported him. She hated him, hated the way she reacted to him. But she couldn't give it up.

The two reunited lovers stumbled over to the couch, Tess never letting go of Sands as he lowered her to the cushions. Her body was begging to stay in contact with his, her brain having shut down entirely since she didn't need its direction for what they were doing.

Sands straddled Tessa's hips, kneeling above her, still not releasing her mouth as he fumbled at her clothes. Finally he pulled away with a low growl, needing to see what he was doing to get her clothes off. Even with his eyes to guide his hands, it took him some time to get her naked, especially since she insisted on doing the same to him.

Tess noted with some part of her unoccupied mind that the TV was still playing. She glanced at it briefly – some guy in a Zorro outfit. Whatever. Then Sands was on top of her again, and he was touching her skin everywhere, and she was still crying but neither of them seemed to mind. Sands seemed intent on sucking every tear from her skin and she let him, grasping at his back as his hands teased her breasts, and sides, and hips, and legs.

Sands left Tessa's salt-stained cheeks and returned to her mouth, either trying to delight, or consume, or console her but unsure of which it was. Perhaps all three. He'd never made love to someone who was crying before, and as much as he'd like to deny it, what they were doing was closer to that than to having sex. Sex was planned and things went smoothly. Making love was messier and more awkward.

Tess gasped into Sands' mouth as his thigh parted her legs. "What's your name?" she asked urgently. "You've never told me your name."

"You know my name." His lips traveled down her neck to her collarbone and she arched beneath him.

"I heard other people use your name. You never told me." There was a difference, she knew there was. She wanted _him_ to tell her his name. "Please."

Sands groaned as her body writhed underneath his, as her legs parted for him. The woman got the strangest ideas into her head . . . but that was part of what fascinated him. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise never to use it."

"Ok." Her legs were creeping up around his waist. If he didn't get inside her soon, he was going to explode. If he didn't get inside her soon, she was going to scream.

"Sheldon. Sheldon Jeffery."

Tess pulled away to look in his eyes. She was nearly panting for breath and tears were still trailing down her face, but she managed to say, "Sheldon Jeffery Sands, if you ever do this to me again, I will kill you. Very slowly."

Sands growled as she disregarded his request and called him by his name anyway, just as he got turned on by it. It was the first time he'd found his full name even slightly arousing. He kissed her brutally, then entered her, filling her completely and faster than was comfortable. She whimpered but lifted her hips to meet him anyway, accepting the pain along with the pleasure. Things could only get better from here on out.

* * *

Tess shivered as the sweat on her skin dried. As her body cooled, she shifted to take advantage of the warm body next to her and nearly on top of her. "I'm cold," she murmured, her lips brushing against a strong throat.

Sands groaned at having to move, but reached behind him to pull the blanket from the back of the couch. By the time he had it in hand, Tess had slipped into sleep with dried tears still on her face. He looked at her for a moment before spreading the blanket over them both and following her example. The TV buzzed in the background.

* * *

It was morning before either of them knew it. Tess had woken with the sun to find herself on the couch with Sands of to the side and slightly on top of her. _We've never . . ._ It was the first time she'd awoken to find him so close to her.

Not long after she opened her eyes, Tessa heard Lena fussing upstairs. She knew it was time to get the toddler a bed instead of a crib, but she hadn't gotten around to it yet.

Without waking Sands, she moved off the couch and dressed herself. Once covered, she went upstairs to retrieve Selena. The toddler was happy to see her, crowing in her own mixture of Spanish and English. After changing diapers and clothes, the two went downstairs where Tess poured a bowl of Cheerios for the girl. As she fixed her own breakfast, Lena insisted on eating on the floor near Tessa's feet. Listening to the odd chatter, she sliced a grapefruit in half and made herself toast. Along with a glass of orange juice, she sat at the table and ate her breakfast, toddler on her lap.

Sands silently entered the kitchen, watching woman and child. Tess had her back to him, but he could tell that she was preoccupied. It made sense. He'd been preoccupied since he'd heard her go upstairs. The only difference between them was that he'd come to a decision of kinds weeks ago; Tess still had to process all this.

"Mañana," he greeted the kitchen's occupants as he went to the refrigerator to get his own orange juice. This early in the morning, he would have preferred coffee, but Tess didn't have any in the house.

A pair of small arms wrapping around his leg interrupted him. "Aren't you friendly?" he asked, looking down into a pair of mischievous dark eyes. "She didn't tell you to bite me, did she?"

Lena laughed, and ran back to Tess, looking over her shoulder and running into her tía's knees as she did. Tessa didn't look nearly as amused as her charge.

"When are you leaving?" she asked quietly as he reached for a glass to pour his juice into. It was the topic forefront on her mind, and what she needed most to know. If he'd just come up for a few hours of fun, she'd have to turn him away. That was no kind of life to live.

Sands froze for a moment, but then continued his task. Only when he'd poured himself a drink and brought it to the table did he say anything. "I –"

"You left the orange juice out." Her eyes clearly communicated that she expected him to do something about that.

With a sigh, he got up and put the carton away. "I don't have to be back in D.C. until the 28th."

"That's ten days away," she murmured, looking down at her breakfast.

"I can leave earlier if that's what you want."

Her head flew up. "What I need hasn't changed, Sands." The honest words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop him. "Sex has never been something casual in my mind, and I need more than a lover who only inserts me into his life when the need to have some fun strikes him."

"So what? You want all or nothing? The ring, dress . . . the whole nine yards?"

"No. No that's not what I'm saying." No, marriage wasn't for her. It would bind him too tightly to her if her condition ever worsened. "With what my life is, I just need stability."

"Then we're talking cohabitation."

_How can he be so calm?!_ she wondered as she watched him sip his juice. What they were discussing was not something to be taken lightly.

**_You think he hasn't lived with women before? I bet Inge would say differently._**

_Inge isn't me._ "I'm not leaving Fairmont. I will not live in a big city. Things are too noisy."

He shrugged. "I don't have to say in D.C."

"What?" He wasn't talking about quitting his job, was he? She certainly wasn't going to support him.

"I've been offered a consulting job of sorts." Sands shrugged again. "I'm getting too old to be shot up every year, or so my doctors and my body tell me. Basically they want me to work for the foreign policy departments. I'll have a hand in choosing new recruits for foreign undercover and black ops, along with looking over intelligence and reconnaissance information to form strategies."

"You don't like field work?" This was all too surreal. Better to settle things before she really got the chance to think about them.

"It's more of a case of it not liking me." He sipped his juice. "It was the chessboard element that really interested me. I'd be free to manipulate on a bigger scale than I can now."

"But are you going to take the job even if we decide . . . relocation . . . isn't what's best." If he was taking the job solely to move to New York, she'd tell him no.

"I'm leaning heavily in that direction." Sands answered her questions without taking offense. He knew – or thought he knew – where most of her hesitation was coming from. "We've cohabitated before, niña. This wouldn't exactly be something new."

"And if things . . . if I . . ." Tess wasn't sure how to phrase her question. But apparently Sands didn't need to hear it.

"You don't scare me, Teresa." He watched as Lena clambered onto the table and waddled over to him.

Tess watched the girl too, remembering that she wasn't the only one a decision like this would affect. "The children –"

"The kids know me. And if you're worried, let me just assure you that they are just as unscared of me as I am of you."

"But what about you?"

"I suspect its something I'll have to learn how to live with." Wrapping an arm around Lena's waist as she made a concentrated effort to climb onto his shoulders, he reached across the table with the other and touched the back of her hand. "You don't have to make a decision today. You don't even have to make one in ten days."

"You're not going to wait forever," she whispered, looking into his eyes.

"You're right. I won't. But I don't think you need forever."

He was right. She didn't. She didn't even need the ten days as long as she was sure he understood that he couldn't just call quits in a year. "You understand what I need?"

Sands sighed. "I won't pretend that you're not asking a lot, but we've know each other for going on two years now. After all the hell we've seen – or not seen as the case may have been at times – I think that if we don't hate each other, than this won't be impossible."

"No. I suppose not."

It wasn't until that evening after her jog that he broached the topic again. They were sitting next to each other but separated on the porch swing with Lena half-asleep between them.

"Been thinking?" he asked, blowing a cloud of smoke out through his nose. Without having made a conscious effort to do so, he'd bought a pack of lights.

"Yeah."

"Ready to stop thinking?"

"I suppose so." Once she voiced a decision, there'd be no going back and she could let the matter go.

"Want to tell me?"

Tess nodded. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well. Here it is. The end – for now – of a wild ride with these two. The ending was meant to be ambiguous and meant to set the tone for what I imagine their life together would be like. Whether or not I ever get to writing that remains to be seen.

First I just want to thank all of you who read, and even more, all of you who reviewed. These two stories really have been for the readers, and I know that you've enjoyed them, which is what makes it worthwhile for me. For those of you who've never dropped me a note, why don't you take the time and tell me whether you enjoyed it or not. I always love hearing from readers.

Second, before you ask, I just want to say that at this time I'm not really planning to write another story in the 'More' series. I do have a glimmer of an idea involving Tess and Sands, and I also have an idea for a new OUATIM story for me, not necessarily involving who these two people have become. Before I get to either of those though, I'm writing a Secret Window fic called Fractured Secrets about what might happen if the movie had ended the same way as the novella, excepting that Mort didn't die. There's murder, mayhem, and psychiatric hospitals, so if you haven't checked that out, I hope you will soon. Also, by the end of the month I hope to post a new story based on the movie 'From Hell' called Post Script. The idea is based off the line in the movie where the dear Inspector Abberline says that his wife died delivering what he was told was a son. No one ever made mention of that son's fate, and the idea intrigued me. Also coming – hopefully – will be a PotC fic (tentatively) called The Life and Death of Captain Jack Sparrow. So far I have nothing but ideas for that, so I can't give you a summary of any kind.

Anyway, thanks for reading all.

**Quotes:** From Hell; Little Red Riding Hood

**Author Thanks:** first, many thanks to any and all who did any sort of beta work for me, whether I asked you, or whether you caught something that needed to be fixed. Thanks to all who read, to those who read and reviewed, and for the last chapter à **Merrie** (Well, I'm glad to know what sort of responses I was getting from you. SJ understands Tess quite well, perhaps more than he really wants to. Donnie Brasco – well, I'd glad you knew where I was coming from. The epilogue is now up, and don't even think about nagging me for a new chapter of something else. :P); **Shannon** (Mushy is good. Thank you so much for your compliments. Sometimes I feel as if my plot gets lost in with all the nitty-gritty feelings, but at least I never lose track of it. I wish I could write something that was straight action – like the CIA taking down a cartel in Mexico – but that would require more research than I want to put into something that is essentially a hobby. Yes, this is the end and I'm sad too, but if you managed to identify with one of my characters, then that's all the praise I need.); **quick29** (There isn't much I could add to this anymore, you're right about that. I'm not so much tired of Sands and Tess as I am ready to let them go. They've grown up and I'm ready to write something new.); **Raven** (haven't I already said that running into walls is bad? I agree totally with you when you say that Sands and Tess aren't meant for happily ever afters, and I don't ever see one for them, but I do think they belong together for the time being. They'll never have children because Tess is more aware of her responsibility than that, and I don't see them ever getting married, but with work I think they can carve out some kind of life together. They already have in a way. "I love you." For some people that works, but not for these two. I see it taking years for them to actually say that to one another, and even then it would be rare. Yes, yes, yes, new fanfics coming. For now, go read my Secret Window fic. Fractured Secrets. I promise that its good. You're not a freak. You're a reviewer. There's a difference. ); **SS** (s'ok. I got teary-eyed myself. I hope that this ending is just as good as the one in the last chapter.); **Dreamgirl21147** (Here it is, the end. I hope it was everything you were hoping for and more.)

I just want to take this tiny space and thank everyone who reviews this chapter. Like I said, it's been a wild almost year writing 'More Than Eyes' and 'More to Life.' It wouldn't have been done without all of you.

Sara


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